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Earth 616, a world of heroes and villains, gods and monsters. Since the initial experiments into taking mankind to the next step of evolution in the 1940’s countless men and women have found great power thrust upon them, and made the decision for themselves where their responsibilities lie. Genius playboys design technologically advanced battle suits, cosmic rays bombard young astronauts and radioactive spiders bite high school students...Heroes are forged. A scientist, obsessed with power experiments on himself until an abomination is created, a child unwillingly thrust into the criminal world rises to becomes its kingpin, a media mogul convinces a private investigator to change his life forever... villains arise. A thousand ways to gain special abilities suddenly seemed possible, but one day, people began to develop powers and abilities seemingly spontaneously. Along with, or even without, these new powers physical aberrations also became more common. A third eye, skin that flows like water, serpentine scales... these people became known as Mutants.

Mutants. People who possess the X-Gene that allows them to naturally develop superhuman powers and abilities. The mutant gene typically manifests itself at puberty along with the bodies other major changes, but can develop at any point, even in the womb. Society grew to fear these individuals for their differences and power, ostracising them. Some Mutants responded violently, unleashing their new-found strength on the ones who persecuted them.Some even began to believe that Mutants were the next stage in human evolution and should be held above normal people in society, launching terrorist campaigns to reach these ends.

But a man, a Mutant, of peace emerged. Professor Charles Xavier, fatherly and wheelchair bound, fought for Mutant rights using peaceful methods and encouraging other Mutants to set the example for humanity rather than attempt to rule over it. He formed a school for Mutants where they could study and feel safe from the cruelty of the outside world, training them to control their powers safely and use them for the betterment of all, not just Mutants. Graduates from this program became X-Men, heroes in their own right, and stand proudly amongst Earth’s greatest champions.

STORY SO FAR

Professor Xavier’s message has been largely successful, and Mutants are now generally treated as normal members of society. Their political situation could perhaps best be compared to that of the openly Gay in many communities. Largely accepted, but vehemently hated by some sections of society, with their rights tenuously vague at best and openly threatened at worst. Many classes of X-Men have graduated from Professor Xavier’s school and moved on to become legends amongst young Mutants and humans alike.

But now, it is time for a new term to start, and new Mutants to start their journey to become X-Men.

WHO ARE YOU?

You are a Mutant, young or old, who has been accepted into The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. You have been at the X-Mansion for a few days now, settling in and receiving your syllabus for the coming year. Perhaps you are incredibly strong, able to lift monster trucks clean over your head without breaking a sweat. Or can you read the minds of others, learning their deepest secrets in a heartbeat? Or perhaps your eyes are just slightly farther apart than is normal .Whatever your ability or physical alteration, so long as you have the X-Gene you qualify as a Mutant, and as a potential X-Man. You will spend the coming years learning to control and hone your abilities, and you will be put to the test not only in the classroom, but against some of Earth's most dangerous villains.

SIGN-UP

I will be accepting four to six players for this Roleplay. Please fill in the following sign-up and post it in the OOC thread.

Human Name:

Mutant Name:

Age: (15+)

Height:

Weight:

Appearance: (Minimum one paragraph)

Personality: (Minimum two paragraphs)

History: (Minimum of two paragraphs)

Mutation: (Describe your ability, power or physical mutation in as much detail as possible. Your ability should preferably begin reasonably weak, or you should experience difficulties controlling it. Abilities with a wide scope for learning new/unusual applications or developing secondary mutations will receive extra attention)

Writing Sample: (Please provide a writing sample detailing EITHER When your ability first manifested OR First arriving to the X-Mansion. There is no minimum or maximum sample – please write naturally)

RULES

Follow all PokeCommunity and Roleplay Corner Rules.

This Roleplay is rated M for Mature. Please avoid excessive use of coarse language. Romance is allowed and encouraged, but please keep physical expressions to kisses and cuddles – the rest happens behind closed doors. Description of violence is acceptable, but please avoid unnecessary gore.

Please remain active, posting a MINIMUM of once a week. If you need to be away from the RP for a time please inform me in advance so we can arrange something off-screen for your character to be doing.

You are very welcome to have laser eye beams. But you may not have concussive red eye blasts that are contained by ruby quartz glasses or visors. You are also welcome to teleport. But you may not be a blue furred, devil tailed German circus-priest called Daycrawler. Blatant rip-offs of existing characters will be ignored. Also, characters claiming to be the relatives of existing Marvel characters will be ignored.

Please keep use of existing Marvel characters to a minimum, and always consult the GM before introducing any.

Please keep OOC to the OOC thread and IC to the IC thread. No spam please.

I (Synthet) am the GM. My word is law. I am a collaborator at heart, but there will be times where what I say goes. Please respect this, or you will be asked to leave the RP.

Be fair with your fellow players. Co-operate. Make THEIR characters look good rather than your own, and they will return the favour. Give them the spotlight and down the line they will give it to you.

Have fun!

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

IMPORTANT NOTE – This Roleplay is not set during or after a specific story arc in the Marvel Universe. It should be assumed that the majority of characters are in the role they are best known for. Norman Osborne is the Green Goblin, Cyclops is a respected leader of the X-Men and Magneto is villainous. If you wish to know the current state of a specific character, please message me.

The Marvel Universe – Earth 616. Earth 616 is very similar to our own, with the addition of super powered individuals. Here is a link to a wiki page that describes the setting in far greater detail than I have already done, or could hope to do. http://marvel.wikia.com/Earth-616

The X-Men - The X-Men are Mutants that have graduated (or are currently performing well) in The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. They are ambassadors for Mutant kind, rescue workers and superheroes rolled into one. Again, here is provided a link to a wiki page describing the X-Men and their exploits. http://marvel.wikia.com/X-Men_(Earth-616)

The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters – Also known as the X-Mansion the school is situated in Westchester County, New York, and covers several acres of ground. The main building is Neoclassical in design and contains dorm and classroom facilities for a large student body. The school boasts numerous sporting facilities and a state of the art computer lounge.

Beneath the mansion is a sprawling underground complex boasting science labs, a psychic amplification device and The Danger Room – a training chamber for developing mutant abilities in combat scenarios.

ABOUT THE RP

First of all, welcome! I hope the above information makes sense to you – I found it surprisingly difficult describing a world I am so familiar with. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me. I just wanted to take this opportunity to describe the sort of Roleplay I’m trying to construct here. The concept is that players will play new mutants, recruited by the X-Men and currently in training. We will see your characters interact and forge friendships or rivalries, train their powers and increase in ability and confidence. They will be deployed on missions – combat and otherwise – learning more about the Marvel Universe as they go. Unique villains and support characters will be created for you to interact with, while Marvel characters will have cameo’s and possibly take on larger roles as the RP progresses. Our focus is character development, along with exploration of the plot I have created.

Mackenzie (or Macca as his friends call him) is a perfectly average human being with nothing physically setting him out above the norm. His unkept, shaggy, dark brown hair gets in his brown eyes every now and again, which he lazily flicks to the right when he can be bothered. His face is not pudgy not skinny, perhaps a little on the lean side with well shaped chin, a slightly crooked nose and a warm smile on his face. His facial hair is not completely feral, but not always smooth. He probably goes three or four weeks at a time before he decides to shave again. His skin is naturally olive and he could probably pull off a nice tan if he was bothered to go outside and get one.

His clothes are easy and it doesn't take much to please Macca. T-shirts and jeans are his usual, perhaps accompanied by a scruffy hoodie and a pair of shoes that are on their way to becoming unwearable. It's not that he's poor, but because he's too lazy to buy clothes and only when they've become almost rags is when he decides to buy some more. He has no real accessories par a simple necklace with a blue stone pendant he received from his mother when he was younger.

Personality:

Spoiler:

As normal people go, Mackenzie is one of the most laid back and nicest guys ever. You could insult the dude and he'd probably compliment you on your insulting skills. He hardly sees the wrong in people and honestly, thinks everyone is a saint. Well, unless they are a total scumbag in a way of harassing people unnecessarily or actually physically hurting people. He can see that fine. In fact, because he's such a nice guy, he'd stand up for the underdog and call that scumbag a "dumbhead" or something harmless. He rarely gets angry or frustrated with people so he can keep his cool pretty good.

Mackenzie is not a leader and couldn't possibly fill the shoes of one. He'd rather take orders than give them, but in saying that, he can see if something needs to be done. If anything, he's more of a loner than a team player. He's capable of looking after himself and has done so since he was sixteen or so and prefers that others don't worry about him. His burdens are his burdens and he'd rather not share them with anyone else.

History:

Spoiler:

Macca was born to a small, nice Welsh family in Surrey. His mother was a stay-at-home one and his father a dentist and their family lived comfortably. Mackenzie sat in the centre of the family, with an older (by 2 years) brother, Derek, and a younger (by 3 years) sister, Emilia and this suited Macca just fine. His entire life was spent being unnoticed, from his birth all the way to high school, and he much rathered cheering on his siblings at their amazing sport or academic achievements than actually try for them himself. And MacKenzie was very much happy with his mediocre life until his brother's 18th birthday.

See, the whole mutant thing that had been going on was not something the O'Connell family associated themselves with. The closest they had come to mingling with mutants was Emilia's best friend, who found out she could emit light by will one night at a sleepover. Of course, Emilia's friend sort of disappeared after that, not that it bothered the family much. So, when Mackenzie's ability came to light, it was nothing less than a surprising shock, especially as it was far more dangerous than glowing.

So, at Derek's 18th, his friends had begun to get a little silly especially since it was the first time Derek was able to drink alcohol legally. Mackenzie, as a lax 16 year old, watched the party from a comfortable distance, laughing at the stupid things the older boys and girls did while under the influence. As the night pressed on and the parents went to bed, the entertainment got a little more violent and a fight started between Derek and one of his friends. When fists started to fly, Macca stepped in, and tried to split it up and instead received a lovely punch to the face. Then, his brother got shoved to the floor.

Being a lax guy, Mackenzie was not one to get angry or rough, but because these guys (older and bigger than him, let's add) had began to kick the daylights out of his brother and nothing Mackenzie could do could stop them, he got frustrated. And angry. Why were they hurting his older brother like this? Why couldn't Mackenzie do anything to stop them? And then, he felt his skin ripple, his entire body felt like it was on fire and then, he blacked out.

When he came to, it was the next morning and he had somehow found his way to his bed. His family was standing around him at a safe distance, cautiously looking at him. The conversation was a careful one, his parents slowly moving closer and laying the news on him. It seemed that although nobody was fatally wounded, Mackenzie had sent all of the offending boys to the hospital. Then, his brother tried to make it clear what he had seen; his brother was an enormous dog. Or wolf. Something with teeth.

After the incident had been cleaned up, his parents, though they loved him, began to distance themselves. Eventually, they were scared to even ask him to do anything except one thing; to leave. He obliged, understanding how his parents felt, and has lived by himself on youth allowance and small pay from working at a pet shop.

The X-Men approached Mackenzie, as he was far too lazy for the other way around. When they asked him if he wanted to learn to control his ability, he accepted. Since the incident at the party, he had been in what he had called first form' at least fifty times (usually in his own home outside his control), second form at least twenty and the third form maybe four or five. To be able to control it was something that was something he probably wanted to do. Probably.

Mutation:

Spoiler:

Therianthropy but instead of being based off the moon like popular culture, it relies on his mood, usually his anger or his anxiety. He has almost impossibly a second heart which keeps his second form alive. When he starts to get angry or feels as if he is in danger, his second heart begins to beat faster and triggers a transformation. Of course, Mackenzie doesn't know he has a second heart. He's never done anything dangerous enough to warrant an x-ray or actually checked his own pulse properly.

His go-to form is a wolf but he has the potential (but not that he knows of and probably not for a while) for other carnivorous mammal forms, such as tiger, bear, etc.

His forms are in stages, not immediate transformations. His first form is sharpened teeth, heightened senses, heightened speed, heightened strength... the usual werewolf gig. His second form he begins to take the physical appearance of his werebeast and works on impulses and instincts. His third and last form is full transformation and acts like an animal. He has no control over these changes as of yet. But, being a pretty lax guy, he has never seen the point to. Not yet, anyways.

Writing Sample:

Spoiler:

"Uh, no miss. Your fish is dead," Mackenzie pointed at the obviously deceased guppie floating in bag that Mrs. Jamison had her death grip around. She, on the other hand refused to believe an upside down fish with an awful case of rigor mortis meant that it was no longer with the living. She pouted back at poor Mackenzie and shook her head again.

"No! No, he is alive! He was doing this this very morning and I tapped the glass and he just sprang back to life! Your fish is defective! I demand another!!" she thrust her hand hard onto the table, forgetting about the bag it held. Then, physics worked its magic and the force of her hand on the table caused the bag to explode all over the counter. The fish went upwards and landed somewhere in Mrs. Jamison's hair, who proceeded to scream loudly trying to flick it out. "No! Get out, get out!"

"Uh..." Mackenzie turned to his younger and less experienced co-worker, Wendy and shrugged his shoulders.

She giggled in reply, "want me to take over?"

"You're an angel," he sighed, trudging away as Wendy began to apologise profusely to Mrs. Jamison and offer her other fish. Of course, Mackenzie couldn't just abandon his work, he just needed to find something else to do. The puppies looked like they needed some attention. And that was away from people. That seemed cool enough.

The puppies barked happily as Mackenzie waved at them, their tails wagging at warp speed. He wasn't sure that they were happy because he was the one that usually fed them or because he was a person and people apparently, to dogs, were exciting.

"Hey pup," Mackenzie opened the door to the puppy pen and put a hand in, letting them lick or nip or whatever they wanted to it. He gave them a gentle pat every now and again, which only made them more excited. Then, one of them peed themselves. Thank heavens they were in a pen filled with newspaper to absorb the pee and not on Mackenzie's lap, like the last three times.

"You seem to be very good with puppies," a voice from behind said. Mackenzie didn't bother looking around, but replied all the same.

"Uh, thanks, I guess. They just like me because I give them food," he slowly pulled his hand out and closed and locked the puppy pen. Standing up straight, he turned to face the man. He didn't recognise his face, so he wasn't a regular like most of the people who shopped here. He wasn't a mother with her children either, so why was he in the puppy section. What he did notice was the patch on the man's sleeve; a yellow and orange X. Someone was a fan, then. "How can I help you, sir?"

"Perhaps, Mackenzie," the man glanced at his nametag, "I can help you. I represent an organisation fit with helping individuals such as yourself."

"We know about you, Mr. O'Connell, and everything you are," the man pulled a card out of his nicely pressed jacket and handed it to Mackenzie's stained fingers. The contrast between the clean man and Mackenzie's scruffy attire made Mackenzie feel like a homeless bum. Which was almost what he was. Except he had a home. He was still a bum. "Give us a call anytime. We'll be waiting."

"Thanks," Mackenzie stared at the card and the man took this as a cue to leave. The entire store seemed to stare at him as he did, including Ms. Jamison and Wendy at the counter. Mackenzie made a face and thrust the card into his pocket. He'd read into it later.

"Who was that?" Wendy nudged Macca as Ms. Jamison walked away with yet another fish, destined for misery and despair. "What was with the patch? Was he cosplaying as Wolverine or something?"

Blake Brennan aka Breaker - Swords, Dublin, Ireland

Age: 23Height: 5'10"Weight: 92kg/203lbs

Appearance: The first thing people notice about Blake is his rather muscular look. Despite being two-hundred pounds, his mass comes more from his heavily calcified bones, yet most of his musculature lies in his upper body; mainly pectorals, biceps and triceps with very little abs to speak off. Back home in Ireland, people would often compare him to well-known Irish Actor Collin Farrell as Blake has strikingly similar facial structure. His hair is a fairly dark, almost deep brown in colour and quite fair and soft to the touch. Usually medium in length, he is quite often seen with it up in public; quite often being mistaken for having "Bed Hair". His mildly green eyes are hidden beneath the rather thick, dark eyebrows of his and has a tendency to squint. Usually, he would be wearing thin, wire rimmed glasses, but has since given up the ghost to wear contacts instead. His stubbled jawline is usually most often shaved save for the presence of a short moustache-goatee that surrounds his mouth and chin. His skin is a signature Irish pale colour while his speech is thickly enhanced with his natural, Irish accent.

As far as accessories go, a single Celtic Cross cut from calcite hangs from his neck, sitting between his pectorals.

When it comes to clothing, Blake's style would be considered quite dapper. His usual appearance consists of a white or other light-ish coloured dress-shirt beneath differing shades of grey waistcoats. Most commonly silver, but also available in a variety of colours, neck-ties hang down his shirt; very rarely half untied unless he is around his flat/family home. In cold weather, a black, Giorgio Armani Cashmere jacket hangs down to just below his knees in length, with three large buttons riding up the centre of his body and a fourth near his throat that most often stays unbuttoned. He ads a merino-wool scarf and close fitting beanie in winter-like weather. Jeans in varying darker shades of blue are the choice of wear in social situations, while Black pinstriped dress pants are worn during more formal occasions. As for foot wear, formal occasions dictate the need for black dress shoes which he keeps polished, while hiking-like boots and casual shoes are present in social situations. Due to the lack of warmer weather in Ireland, Blake almost always wears this style of dress around for most of the year.

Due to his current mutation, many of his shirts have been tailor-made to more accommodate his affliction with the addition of larger sleeves. To counteract this, unless need be, he tends to roll his sleeves up to sit behind the bone swords; just past his elbow.

Personality:
Blake lives in the present; pure and simple. What will happen in the future and what has happened in the past rarely affect his judgement or perception as it is the now in which he lives. While he can perceive the implications of certain actions, he prefers to act upon what options are available at the moment and not what may or may not occur in the future. As of such, it provides the positive in that he can make judgement based on current standing, but will only contemplate the implications when they arise to meet the action. Generally speaking, the easily changeable option tends to be the one most taken. More often than not, he will show up to appointments early or on time and has yet to miss any business meetings due to his extracurricular weekends. Among those people whom he made acquaintance with in University, there also exists a large number of trust-fund children that Blake will surround himself with. While his circle of acquaintances is fairly large, it is usually mediated by the amount of wealth one's family owns and as such; he will often ignore those who have fallen past his radar. Because of this, he also retains a biased opinion of those he spends his time around, often lying to their faces in order to retain their weak, money-based friendship. Arrogance is possibly Blake's largest negative trait. Having money has made it easy to sway peoples minds when it comes to making decisions, his lack of humility shows in his ability to pursue that his option, idea or proposal is right, and everyone else's is wrong. Being right more often than not has pushed this trait closer to being Hubris, and is not one of his more redeeming qualities, however, sometimes, a degree of arrogance is enough to get things done.

Blake is almost a man of two faces.

On one hand he is the staunch, stern-faced, working individual hired by his father. After having his Business and Management Degree paid for by his father at Cambridge University, Blake soon assimilated into the high ranks of his father's Electricity Industry, "Irish Power", which currently supplies almost eighty percent of power in Ireland alone, as an Assistant Marketing Director before later taking the title of Marketing Director within a year. Thanks to his father's influence, his rise in the company has made it easier for Blake to find a job and did not have to search for opportunities like many others in his class. While he is grateful for his father providing him the position, he also works hard to make his father proud and prove that he deserved the position; not only gaining it through other means. By day he works from the late morning to the evening, keeping the tough exterior together before he lets loose during the night. Quite often, he will exercise at the gym located in the lower floors of the office building at times when the least amount of people will be there. While this is mainly to curb the wonder and interest in his mutation by other people, it does not detract from his own appreciation of the ability.

On the other, he is the brazen, rebellious, trust-fund playboy that parties hard and sleeps around. In the weekends, Blake will take trips with other trust-fund friends to the likes of Liverpool, Manchester and Birmingham to indulge in several nights of constant partying, clubbing and general revelling. Wherever he goes, he does not hold back and will often let it be known how rich he is and how much power his family holds. Quite often, he will let his money loose in clubs and generally parties hard. With money no longer being an issue, he indulges in the most expensive of hotel rooms, alcohol and sometimes recreational additives. If anyone tries to pick a fight with him or his friends, he will not hesitate to bare his bone swords in defiance which often sends people packing. Even showing off his mutation at times if a way he attracts attention from anybody nearby who will give it to him. As long as he keeps his face out of the tabloids; something not so easy for the son of a major power conglomerate, his father seems to turn a blind eye to this rather rebellious side to his nature.

History:Blake was the sole child to Kiera O'Farrell and Declan Brennan until the birth of his younger sister five years later. The first known record of Blake's mutation was only a couple of days following his birth when their midwife noticed a series of bumps along the Ulna bone. Perplexed by this and combined with his rather heavy weight, she informed the doctors who took a quick scan and test of infant Blake. To the doctor's surprise, Blake had unusually high levels of calcium and bone marrow as well as a series of bulging bone along the exterior of each ulna bone. As the years progressed, his cautious parents took him to any private doctors they could find, yet none could come up with a solution. They merely continued to keep watch on the growth of the bone segments as they pushed themselves further towards the surface. About a month after the birth of his sister, Eva, the bone began to push through the final layer of skin in a flow of blood having Blake being sent to the hospital for immediate emergency action. Over the next seven months, he remained in intensive care where the doctors kept close monitoring on the bone protrusions as well as tried to keep Blake's pain to a minimum. Once the last remnants of the bone broke free of the flesh, the inner growth of the bone stopped and his muscles and skin soon formed around the five protrusions now sticking from each arm. For the next six years, the exterior bones on Blake's arms began to grow further out, connecting together, until they began to form a large, exterior bone. Despite this mutation, Blake still underwent the torture of going to school, but he became more popular as many of the children did not know of the bones growing beneath his skin. With his own tailor, Blake's uniforms were soon outfitted with larger sleeves to accommodate the extra bone.

It wasn't until High School that the bone swords stopped developing and the extend of the bone was recognised. Throughout High School, Blake still retained his long sleeves, courteous of private schooling, but with two bone protrusions sticking out past his pinky fingers weren't hard not to miss. It soon got out about Blake's mutation, and despite the varying responses, he still managed to come out on top. His closest friends thought it was amazing to be associated with him, bullies feared him and people generally let him get along with his business. Although, there was still dissent among the student body about his so called "affliction"; to the point that parents were fearing for their children's safety. After swapping schools many times, Blake soon finished his High School education with more friends than when he had entered and went onto study at a Tertiary level. Due to his high scores and perhaps a bit of influence on his parent's behalf, Blake managed to make it into Cambridge Universities Business and Management School. Here it became a lot easier for Blake to hide his abilities, and even those who did left him to his own business. Now away from his parents' overbearing and judgemental looks, yet still on their trust-fund for him, he began to indulge in other behavioural patterns with many of his classmates and friends. On more than one occasion, he used his mutation to give him an advantage in bar brawls, but he generally found that if you flaunted money, people were more likely to accepted you. And so began the slow transformation of Blake from hiding his mutation, to using it as a show-and-tell item. At this point, the bones had morphed from being simply bones, to something more sword like and quite heavy. To aid this growth, his parents started him on a high calcium diet which he still follows to this day.

Once graduated, he made an agreement with his father to join the Electricity Company he owned, but on the terms that he would be given a "head-start" and have to work his way up from there. Upon agreeing, he assisted the Marketing Director before taking his place a year later. In the current year, he continues to work as Marketing Director at Brennan Power, as well as holding down his weekend debauchery. He has failed to hold down a successful relationship, preferring the company of people he meets of his weekend excursions and uses his Bone Swords merely for show and intimidation. One day, a letter appeared on his desk stamped all the way from New York in America. The letter asked for his joining of something called 'The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters'. No longer regarding himself as a 'youngster', he disregarded the message, before re-reading it later that day. In the letter, Xavier explained about the school and it's classes aimed at helping mutants control their abilities. Blake, saw that his ability needed little to no control, that is was merely for show, but soon realised that he could actually cause some damage, when put to the right use. Using the phone number at the top of the letter head, Blake called up Professor Xavier and, after a rather long conversation, decided to fly over to New York to see if this school was right of him. Handing in his notice of leave, he took up the opportunity to use his accumulated leave at the company to pursue Xavier's option. Informing his parents that it was merely a 'trip with a couple of friends', he boarded a first-class flight to New York.

Mutation: Bone Swords
Blake's ability manifested at a young age, yet didn't fully manifest until puberty set in around the age of fifteen. Up to the age of five, doctors merely saw the strengthened Ulna bone as a simple mutation of the bone; that was until the extra bone mass began pushing through the muscles and skin. Baffled, the doctors could do nothing but monitor the movement of the bone mass as the years went on. Around the age of Eleven, the bone began protruding from the last layer of skin and out into the open air with quite a lot of blood and pain. At this point, the bone mass inside of his arm no longer grew, and so the muscles strengthened around it. Over the next four years, however, the bone mass on the outside of his arms continued to grow until they stopped growing and became dual, katana-like swords of bone, protruding from each arm. Due to this, Blake consumes a large amount of Calcium rich products daily to help compensate for the calcification of not only his Bone Swords, but also his bone structure; making his bones less brittle and fragile. Having to carry this extra weight around on his arms has given him larger upper body musculature. The bone swords, however, stretch from the connection of the ulna to the elbow, whilst the tips stretch just past his pinky finger.

Writing Sample:

Blake Brennan aka Breaker - Swords, Dublin, Ireland

Flying to Heathrow was almost natural for Blake; having flown to some of the major cities in England already on his evenings of debauchery. Still, the flight itself remained tiresome despite the range of amenities at his disposal as a first class passenger. But this flight was far from the last he would be taking; only after an hour from touchdown in Heathrow would he be on the long haul flight to John F Kennedy International Airport in New York. Aside from his rare family trips to Europe, this was his first time flying outside of the European Union. Xavier's letter burned hot in his hands as he turned the paper over and over again, glimpsing the school's logo on once side before it disappeared in the next rotation. He was nervous, worried, delighted, almost every emotion under the sun was running through his mind, just beneath the skin, however Blake kept up the same, staunch look he had when working; showing emotions was equivalent to showing weakness.

"Excuse me sir, can I interest you in a beverage?" The flight attendant spoke a very refined English accent, most likely she lived or had lived north of London for a large part of her life.

"No thanks," He waved her off, a small sliver of his affliction showing past the sleeve of his shirt.

She gasped, clutching her hand to her mouth and stepping backwards, but Blake did what came naturally; slipping a fifty pound note from the folds of his jacket and offering it to her. She seemed to realise the gesture was mainly for discretion, but the money enticed her further as she shakily accepted the bribe before moving on to the next person. Blake was now left to his own thoughts, as the plane continued over the Irish Sea.

John F Kennedy Airport, New York, America.

Despite the extra comfortable seats offer in First Class, Blake still managed to get little sleep as the seats themselves were designed for people without bones sticking out of their arms. Regardless, he watched his back swing around the conveyor belt as he subtly stretched his arms so that no one could get a glimpse of his affliction. Even though he revelled in the attention the mutation gained him when he was with his friends, there were still a large amount of people who viewed it with disgust as if he was from some horror movie. The cellphone buzzed violently in his pocket as he retrieve his bag, the screen casting blue light across his face as a familiar name lit up the screen.

"Buster! Hows she cuttin?"

"Ah, not too bad, bud, I heards ye were off to America."

"Yeah, need some time away from me family, is all."

"Come back soon, yeah?"

"Aye, will do, bud. Gotta go, me taxi's here, catch ya later!"

"Aye, let's hope America can fix that head of yers, s'like a well chewed toffee!"

The phone went silent as the black, tinted car swung around, the driver getting out to open the back door for Blake. He was grateful the car had come at that moment, despite Buster being one of his oldest, and possibly closest friends, he could only handle the man when he was fairly intoxicated. He had been the first person to find out about Blake's affliction, and while he didn't take offence to the mutation, he would make constant jokes about it; fuelling Blake's hatred of the mutation. Buster had even helped him to take a blade saw to the protrusions when they had been in boarding school, but all that happened was reparations for destroying school property. The two had been through think and thin since high school, but Blake still kept him at an arms length like everyone else.

"The name's Pearson, would you like to make any detours before we head to the institute?" The driver had been one Charles had arranged for Blake to take.

"S'all right." Was all he responded with before leaning back in the car seat.

Running his fingers up and down the smooth, calcified bones, he began to have second thoughts on the whole idea of running away to America to gain better control of this ability. Despite the professor explaining how Blake could gain better control over his ability, he could see no way of him getting stronger. This was his ability; the swords themselves had stopped growing for a number of years and now were simply dull blades of calcium attached to his arms. Aside for swinging them around haphazardly, they were merely a useless affliction; one he could use to show and impress or intimidate. Xavier had said being a mutant was something special, something to be proud about, but Blake didn't feel special, he didn't feel proud at all about his current mutation. For all it's intimidating aspects, the bones were a massive weakness out there in the "real" world. Blake wasn't running from his family, he was running from himself. He had left his old life behind to pursue another facet of life he had not though before to pursue. He continued to rotate the letter in his hand, heart racing even faster the closer the came to the institute. Was this the right choice to make?

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, New York, America

There was no turning back now. The cast iron gateway swung open as if they had a life of their own, the driveway leading up through a woodland area before the sprawling estate of the X-Mansion came into view. Blake was impressed, this place seemed like a modern day version of Hogwarts with students flying around the highest balustrades of the roof in some sort of race, with people cheering them on below while others relaxed on the rather large expanses of grass the split the mansion from the woodland. The black car seemed rather out of place driving up the gravel road to the mansion, garnering unwanted in Blake's direction as he slid further into the seat; despite the windows being tinted. When the car finally stopped, a small contingency stood at the foot of the mansion, seemingly waiting for him to arrive.

"Mr. Brennan, how nice of you to join us at the institute. I am Professor Xavier, we talked on the phone," Blake cautiously shook the man's hand, partially because he was still uncomfortable with his affliction without the influence of alcohol, and partially taken back by surprise at the man's wheelchair ridden state, "This here is Scott," He pointed to a tall, lanky guy wearing a pair of strangely red-tinted glasses, "Storm," the lady behind him with dove-white hair and a cape merely nodded in his direction, "and finally, Logan" the final member was a feral looking guy, someone Blake wasn't sure he wanted to get on the bad side of.

"It's good to be here, Professor," he replied, the strength of his Irish accent definitely showing through in contrast to Xavier's calm voice.

"Let's retreat inside, there is much to inform you on, Mr. Brennan."

Gulping, he followed the Professor and his entourage inside the mansion, marvelling at how big it appeared despite it's outside appearance. Now that he was here, Blake was a little less worried about making the trip to the mansion; if all went well, then he'd have to ring his father in three weeks time, telling the man that he would stay here. Suddenly, it didn't seem all so bad as when he had taken his first step onto the plane back in Dublin.

Edit: Got my appearance done, will take care of my personality and History tomorrow

Edit: Personality and history done

Edit: Finished.

Spoiler:

Human Name: Mione Johnson

Mutant Name: Nightmare

Age: 16

Height: 5'4

Weight: 110lbs

Appearance:

Spoiler:

Main outfit secondary outfit

Mione has pale skin and bright blue almond shaped eyes on her heart shaped face. She has small ears that are proportionate to the rest of her face and body that have two black studs in the lower part of each ear. She always wears black mascara, red eye shadow and blush, and dark red almost black lipstick. She also has a black stud in a nose piercing on her small button nose. Her hair is long going down to her mid back and a dark brown in color. She has it parted so her bangs cover her left eye partially and has two sections that are normally over her shoulders resting on both sides of her upper torso. She wears a black headband in her hair to keep her part in place. Clothing wise she wears a blood red shirt with black lace at the top that ends right above her bellybutton and has elbow length black puffy sleeves. She wears a black choker with black string hanging off it to match and a blood red bracelet on her right wrist. Her skirt is the same color blood red turning into black ruffles before it ends above the knee. Finishing the outfit she wears a pair of blood red ballet flats with a rose on the top of each shoe in the same color. When the weather is bad, or the situation calls for it in the place of her skirt Mione wears a pair of black dress pants. Form fitting and tight but not restricting movement.

Personality: Mione at this point in her life has very unstable emotions and a non-existent form of self control. Despite this Mione is a very sweet and kind girl despite her mutation and her mutant name. She just wants to have friends. That's her greatest desire at this point. She loves to help others and tries her best to remain happy but that isn't so easy. She suffers great fears and doubts about who she is and has been through a lot in her short life. She bounces around in her emotions a lot. One minute she can be happy, smiling and laughing and then next be in tears or extremely angry. Mione also hates being asked questions about her unstable emotions. She's not bipolar or anything she just doesn't like to talk about her childhood at all.

Mione's favorite colors are red and black and she always tries her best to be fashionable. She's a real girly girl. Loves girly clothes and makeup as well as small cute animals. She loves to read books of all kinds and can have a very scholarly attitude at times. She thinks education is a very important thing. She wants to learn all she can and hopes to learn enough to get some self control. It always upsets her greatly when she loses control and uses her mutation on someone by accident and even herself. She has a great fear of dead things be they people or animals due to a traumatic incident from her childhood.

History: Mione was born in Portland, Oregon to a single mother Beatrice Johnson and an absent father who didn't stay around. For her early years Mione was the average happy little girl she played princess, had tea parties with her mom and like any child with an absent parent always asked about her father. This all changed when Mione was six years old. Her absent father returned a man named Mike Davis. But he didn't come back to play the role of a father, he came back to get money from her mother for drugs. When Beatrice refused he killed her unaware of the small child, his daughter watching from her hiding place in a closet. She was found the next day by a neighbor wandering out of her house in tears and covered in her mothers blood. This was the start of her greatest fear. Mione was placed in a foster home and was sent to therapy to get help to recover from what happened. But it didn't work. The young girls emotions were all over the place and she had terrible nightmares for over four years every night.

Over the next several years she moved from foster home to foster home none of them very good ones furthering her emotional trauma. Six years after her mothers death on her twelfth birthday Mione got into a fight with her foster mother when suddenly the woman started screaming about being covered in spiders but Mione didn't see any. When her anger calmed her foster mother stopped screaming and looked at her with a frightened expression before Mione was told her eyes turned black and she was called a freak. The next day her case worker showed up and said she was being moved to a group home for foster kids which wasn't any better than any of the foster homes she had lived in over the years. She was picked on, made fun of and accidentally used her new powers on the other kids and herself several times. By the time she was 16 the others at the group home called her Nightmare. But it seemed there was hope. After she turned 16 Mione was accepted into The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters and the caretaker of the group home the only person there to accept was more than happy to fly her to New York telling her to call when she could and that this would be good for her.

Mutation: Mione has the power to make people see their biggest fear. By focusing on them she can make someone think they are facing what scares them the most. That their fear is really there when it's not. The stronger emotion that Mione feels when using her power the stronger it is. At the moment though her power is really uncontrolled. It easily backfires on herself, or she can use it one someone and not realize what she's done, or sometimes be able to stop it. This deals with her unstable emotions. With practice and controlling her emotions her power should be controllable in time.

Writing Sample: Mione smiled slightly as she bounded down the stairs her brown hair bouncing as she moved quickly. “Ms. Travis! Ms. Travis! Do you know what day today is!” she yelled happily as she ran into the kitchen.

“No, and I don't really care” Ms. Travis a small dark skinned woman with graying black hair in her late fifties snapped making Mione stop abruptly.

“Like I said child, I don't care” Ms. Travis said again turning the stove off and putting a single plate of pancakes on the table. “I just took you in for the money I get girl. Now you know were the cereal is take care of yourself.” the woman sneered at the small girl whose eyes welled up with tears.

“I hate you!” Mione cried sadness and anger welling up inside her unaware of the fact her bright blue eyes were darkening to black. Suddenly Ms. Travis started to scream, not softly either. Loud terrified screams about spiders but Mione was to angry, and she didn't see any spiders anyway. Ms. Travis is old, she's probably seeing things the old stupid bat. Mione thought angrily as the screams continued for a good ten minutes before her anger started to fade and her eyes gradually returned to their normal blue.

Ms. Travis calmed down and took deep breaths but the look the woman was giving her was a truly frightened look. “Your eyes turned black...and then I saw spiders. You know I'm afraid of spiders you freak! What did you do!” the woman screeched shrilly.

“I...I didn't do anything!” Mione cried thinking that it wasn't her fault. “you must have been imagining it!”

“No I didn't” she snapped back. “I saw them. Felt them crawling all over me! You must be on of those mutants!” she yelled advancing towards the girl who backed up frightened. “Some people may have accepted you freaks! But I'm not one of them! Go to your room and don't come out!”

Mione's eyes widened as the woman yelled at her before she turned and ran as fast as she could up the stairs and back to her room shutting the door and throwing herself on her bed in tears. Why does everyone hate me!

Appearance: Strong Persian roots are apparent in Yunia’s physical appearance though she is often mistaken for other Middle East ethnicities. Her culture has vastly influenced the clothing she chooses to wear on a day-to-day basis. In a variety of colors and patterns Yunia never fails to wear a scarf. These scarfs come up over her head and stops at the very same place where her haircut does, the leftover material is usually wrapped around one of her shoulders. The length the scarf goes down her back is up to what style. Midnight black colored hair can be seen (but that depends on the tightness of the scarf) resting on her shoulder; its true length is unknown to Yunia herself. Most of the time she lets her side swept bangs hang out the front it feels the most comfortable to her. The dresses she wears come in patterns that are most popular in her culture as she has a high respect for it and feels as if she is honoring it even if she can’t be there.

Yunia has a petite frame underneath her clothing and doesn’t have any accessories that would make her stand out. Up to several bangles can be found resting on her arm depending on how she is feeling that day but are usually hidden by her dress sleeves. Glittery flats are Yunia’s shoes of choice, though she doesn’t mind going barefoot if the need arises for her to do it.

Personality:
Yunia lives in her head, the outside world isn't some place she focuses on, it's her private, innermost thoughts that she tirelessly spends her entire time worried about. She's all about the future, the big picture, and where everything is going to be at the end of the road. Those who act before they think aren't the type of people Yunia allows herself to be around incase their rash, bold, and intolerable decisions want to rub off on her. Their misguided actions are often a gateway to reckless behaviors and lead to endangering others in a way that is completely unnecessary. Distance is the first, if not one of the first, distinct characteristic one notices when they choose to interact with Yunia. She isn't slightly interested in communication, it isn't one of her strong suits and she tends to avoid partaking in trivial conversation. Anything that doesn’t give her specific data or information is pretty much a useless form of communication. In an attempt to keep the communication to a minimum she feigns having lack of comprehension of the English Language when in reality she is as proficient as almost anyone who speaks it. To further throw off she utilizes a thick accent that makes her English almost not understandable, truth is Yunia lost her accent years ago but is still pretty good at faking one. Yunia prefers to get to know other people by profiling their behaviors. She’s always surveying her surroundings with a keen eye and prefers to maintain a close eye on everything. Brisk answers that are sweet but detailed is the most effective way she has determined to talk to people if she must. Being a very private person fuels this need to be distant from other people. That and Yunia doesn’t trust anyone, at least not right away but one thing she would never do is trust her life in someone else’s hands without having her own plan.

Emotions are a tricky thing with her she most certainly has them and she recognizes them as tools that are available to express oneself. There is the constant realization that they are exploitable, which is why she keeps her emotions under control. She is guided by logic, planned out strategic moves, and lots of rational thinking. Her face is a blank canvas. Due to having these traits and lack of attachment to people Yunia would potentially sacrifice teammates if she felt their death would aid them in getting to the bigger picture. Objects, and that includes people, have little to no value to Yunia and are worth sacrificing if they aren't ultimately advancing a set goal, herself included in this situation. She also won’t let herself by distracted by emotions or distracted in general. Yunia is able to keep an unbiased (or mostly unbiased) stance on generally any subject as she doesn't get attached to things very easily. Cold, calm, and collected are words that people throw her way to describe her. She doesn't disagree with these terms and in fact embraces them at time. Anger, sadness, and excitement are rarely moods that Yunia finds herself trapped in, she usually stays in a state of contentment. Meditation helps her focus it's something that allows her to be alone and by herself away from those that are loud and problematic. Arguments solve nothing especially when neither person is willing to accept the others opinion as more than fiction, which is why Yunia has never put herself in a position to argue. Things are done her way, if she does conclude that her way isn't the most efficient then she may allow another person's idea to override her own.

Personal relationship and romantic relationships are an extreme difficulty for Yunia to maintain seeing as she doesn’t understand why you need to rely on another person. Simply Yunia has never considered nor used the terms "friend" or "significant other" in everyday life. People wanting to be her friend is a weird experience, usually she is known as being too harsh. Objective criticism is necessary in everything one does and Yunia freely supplies it to those who she believes need it the most. Her intelligence also gets in the way; no one wanted to be friends with the “smart girl” yet Yunia didn’t mind. Yunia prefers solitude to company whenever possible like strolls where she can have personal reflections on the actions she took that day and how she can improve certain qualities for the next day. Yunia is very tough on herself, she doesn’t allow mistakes or mess up, and she is most certainly a perfectionist. That being said everything has its place and purpose, which is also why she is a very neat and ordered person.

History: Being born to Persian/Iranian immigrants in the United States was a plot to get her a better life than she would in the Middle East. After her birth Yunia was immediately moved back to Iran where she learned Perish, Pashto, and Lori among several other smaller languages that would be useless to list. English was taught to her as her fourth language but at an early enough age where she is as proficient as other Americans. Yunia’s siblings are much older than her by a decade or two; her gestation was a surprise to both of her parents. There never was a strong relationship formed between them due to the large age difference nothing more than pleasantries are exchanged when spoken. The first five years in Iran were difficult seeing as it isn’t the most stable country for one to live in. By the age of eleven she was moved back to the United States after her father became a foreign diplomat. As a daughter of a foreign diplomat this caused quite the stir in her lifestyle as it brought all types of unnecessary spotlight to her life. She was forced into a private school located in central New York called St. Catherine’s. Despite it’s religious title the school was the farthest thing from a holy institution, Yunia learned that before she took five steps into the building.

Private school was tough for Yunia, kids taunted her but she never let it got the better of her. She started her preference of being alone then, as her mother stayed back in Iran while her father was too busy with confidential material to be bothered. With nothing else to keep her attention Yunia dove head first into her studies and didn’t look back until she was (and currently still is) the top of her class. Jealousy never crossed her mind as she watched kids become friends and date. The astonishing amount of pregnancy scares and terminations were enough to put her off that scene. A need to do something other than homework came over Yunia during her one of her later years so she joined the tennis team. A true novice turned into an impressive player, though there were several girls that were better than her. It gave her something to do and taught her the working definition of teamwork, but she only connected with one of the girls. This connection wasn’t a friendship of sorts, they were acquaintances that spoke on the bus to games and occasionally chatted about studies. A majority of the time they stuck to their own rituals and only included the other when they felt it was necessary or beneficial for them to do so. The development of her mutation wasn’t noticed until an important tennis match, it was a double with her acquaintance. The ball was in her court and when she swung with all her might yet she miscalculated where the ball was. All her frustration flowed through her as the ball slammed (and went through) her wrist. Somehow her arm, from the wrist up, had transformed into sand on the court in front of hundreds of people. The recollection and shift backward to normal was painless and left Yunia in shock to the point where she ran off the court, never returning and therefore losing the match. Experimentation and tests were done and through Yunia’s own means she discovered that she could mimic the properties and appearance of sand.

Research was done thoroughly on Yunia’s end on the mutation that she had apparently developed. It was a strange phenomenon and wondered why gotten this gene especially when she hadn’t seen the any signs of these mutations in her family before. She received the letter exactly two days later asking her to be apart of “The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters”. Having been in New York she had most certainly heard about this school of so-called “freaks” that spent their time in complete isolation learning how to be "bigger freaks" that sounded beyond wonderful to Yunia. The call was less worrisome than she had been expecting, Charles Xavier explain in detailed answers leaving Yunia without any questions to ask. Anything was better than another year in hell and with the permission of her father Yunia was able to transfer to the school to begin her new life.

Mutation - Sand Mimicry: Like other mutations that deal with mimicry Yunia is able to transform parts of her body completely into sand. If she is wearing clothes they to will also be transformed into sand and when recollected will appear undisturbed like the rest of her body. When she does shift her body into sand the part is homogenous in matter, which means that it is all affected the same and not in any worse than the rest of her. It is not visible to the human eye whether any of Yunia’s parts are made of sand or are in their regular form until they are completely disturbed. She can shift into a granular form where everything is completely made of sand and looks exactly like sand. It takes a lot of concentration and willpower for her to be able to recollect herself after spreading herself out. This is why she is hesitate to do a fully body burst or spread herself out too thin, though despite the risk she is still willing to do it once she gets at that stage. Being able to disperse her sand at a high velocity and blinding her opponents is a skill is eager to learn. As of right now she is stuck at a more ground-based form when she wants to more of a sand storm.

Writing Sample:

The air was crisp, but now that Yunia was a mutant the occasional shift to sand eased the temperature that she would’ve normally felt. Though, the other negative was that she wasn’t able to do a complete body transformation while holding the appearance of her clothing and it be kept for more than a few minutes. Walking in a full body transformation was nearly impossible so she kept changing different body parts; right now it was her left leg. Woken from her short nap by her father, he had become even more distant from her ever since she revealed her mutation to him. It was clear he was in denial; Yunia didn’t blame anyone especially not herself because she didn’t have a hand in picking her genes. There wasn’t any time wasted ever in the mental schedule that Yunia kept. Every single movement was planned accordingly and thoroughly before she made them there was nothing like being prepared. Clothes were sacked in a neat order in her wooden dressers; Yunia had already taken the liberty of choosing the outfits for the entire week. Today’s outfit had been made with special consideration because it would be her first day at her new school, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngster. A bright green scarf that was her mother's and a pink dress covered with floral arrangements. The truth was out, she was a foreign diplomat’s daughter and a mutant, those were her sole identifiers to the outside world. Breakfast was sausage, eggs, and buttered toast and was ate in isolation, her father had briefly spoken (switching between Lori, English, and Persian to make sure his daughter didn't get rusty) with her earlier in the week explaining he would send the town car with their personal driver to deliver her to her new place of study.

A black sedan was carefully parked on the street; Yunia had already spotted it when she was in the kitchen. The driver was a middle age man named Eugene; he had been her driver for some years now and he had grasped her personality within days of their meeting. A simple nod of the hat signaled to Yunia that he acknowledged her presence before he drove the warmed up car out. There wasn’t much scenery in the city, if you’ve seen one building you’ve basically seen them all, which is why Yunia’s eyes remained closed until they exited the city. Xaiver’s School wasn’t located in an urban area; it was alone, and not surrounded by thousands of other buildings. That was probably because the highly secretive mutant society that lived behind the walls. A threat people called her, not once had Yunia dwelled on the crude names people spat at her kind (mutants) because it wasn’t as if their venomous words had any severe impact on the life she lived. There were a staggering number of mutations one could have, would any of them be similar to hers? On the top of The Worry List was if she was going to receive a roommate that was one thing that would most certainly throw a wrench in her plans. A place where she could just be alone, like her room, was a novelty, especially when you grow up in New York City. Earlier today she had practiced her foreign accent it wasn’t really foreign since she previously had it before she lost it. A well-practiced method to insure the barrier between her and any other individual would remain impenetrable. Reorganizing her specific daily routine and schedule wasn’t something Yunia had been looking forward to; it was a nuisance but unfortunately very much necessary.

Eyes peeled to the mansion that came into view as Eugene pulled into the rather long driveway up to the school. It was magnificent, a structure that was better than most of the ones she had to stare at in the city. At the door Yunia stopped, Eugene wasn’t allowed inside to help her; she parted ways with a wave of her left hand. No one had been there to greet her so she cautiously opened the door and took in the sights in the doorway. The temperature in the building let Yunia cease her partial transformation altogether, it wasn’t too hot nor was it too cold. Surprisingly the mansion was rather empty in terms of people, class must have already started. Which was why Yunia figured she was left there standing alone in a strange place. Around the nearest corner came a girl with light brown hair and a pretty smile, Yunia hoped her presence had been noticed and the woman would help her to a room.

"May I ask your what your name is?" The lady had a clipboard in one hand and started to flip through the multitude of pages as Yunia answered her question. A gracious thanks was given to her as she grabbed one of Yunia's heaviest bags with ease and took off toward what Yunia assumed was the living area, "Follow me, and don't touch anything."

They arrived in what was a dormitory of sorts, there were doors open and Yunia saw fellow students either getting settled, talking to one another, or sleeping the day away. It was a rather spacious place, more importantly enough room so that she wouldn't bump into anyone if she wanted to be alone. Clearly she had been chosen for a reason, there must be hundreds of mutants being discovered weekly, why had Charles Xavier (and co.) wanted to have her in the X-Mansion and attending classes? Would she join the X-Men? They were famous in the city; kids in her neighborhood adored them and wanted to be just like them. The lady walked as if she were on a mission, was she? There had been no proper introductions exchanged so if she were someone of high standards Yunia hadn't realized. Yunia hadn't kept up with mutant news ever. One thing she was good at was attaching faces to names unless the faces shapeshifted then that would be complicated. In front of an empty room is where they stopped and unloaded Yunia things.

Without looking up once the women deliver Yunia a stack of papers, "These are your classes you will attend regularly unless told otherwise. Be on time at all times." It was evident what the papers were now, her class schedule but also a syllabus as it was marked at the top of one of the pages. "The others will be arriving shortly if they have not already arrived, socialize if that pleases you. Your classes begin in a few days as indicated on the schedule I handed you," She spoke with authority and in a monotone voice and left without so much as a warning.

How odd.

Relief settled in as Yunia unpacked her things, it was much easier than packing them. She wondered if she was allowed to call home, but her father was more than likely on the phone as he always was these days. There wasn't a better time than now to observe her surroundings, a strange place needed to become familiar. In an extra effort not to get lost Yunia left a trail of sand on her pathway so she'd easily be able to find her way back. Hopefully there weren’t maids that swept the floor every hour but Yunia was fairly confident that she could find her way back regardless of the sand. Drat! She had left her schedule on her bed and she had already walked over thirty feet away, tomorrow she would find out where her classes were today was simply for observation data.

Appearance: When one could describe Rory Oliver Carr, one could almost liken him to a regal dragon. Because of his upbringing, he acquired a posture of that of a high-class gentleman. He dresses like one too. His wardrobe consists mostly of green long sleeves and black suits. He is seldom seen dressed casually, and sees no reason otherwise. He attaches a pin, shaped like a black hole, in all of his suits.

Physically, Rory Oliver Carr is not repulsive. In fact, given the right conditions, he could be charming. However, his narrow dark-brown eyes remind people of two deep pools of dried blood, on which sat a horn-rimmed glasses. His thin mouth curves ever so slightly, the way when most madmen’s mouth tends to do so. His coal-black hair is combed back, with a short ponytail hanging.

(This is roughly the image I was going for plus the glasses and the ponytail.)
Disclaimer: Image is not mine.

Spoiler:

Personality: Rory Oliver Carr is a ‘superior’ being; that is, he thinks highly of himself. He thinks that, as a mutant, he is not among the common population. “I am part of something higher: the Homo sapiens sapiens,” as he frequently says. Despite being able to control his mutation for a mere two years, he frequently shows it off among his peers. He instills fear among the most of them, and he prides himself in being able to do so. He has few friends among the common people because of this. Rory Oliver Carr does not think of it however. He preferred not socializing when the only people around are of ‘mediocre’ existence.

With Rory Oliver Carr, it is always the ‘me’ that is important. While he is not a compulsive liar, he does not hesitate to lie his way when he needs the fulfillment of his goals. He uses his father’s money excessively to purchase things beyond his needs, simply because he wanted to spite him. His egocentric view sometimes gets the better of him as he gets frustrated whenever he cannot accomplish anything.

Before his discovery of his mutation, Rory Oliver Carr is already a man you would learn to hate. He’s not the class bully type; instead, he’s the guy in the corner who does not give any thoughts to whatever (and whoever) is around him. He views other people as tools; tools to further his achievements, or tools to provide enjoyment when he is bored.

However, despite being a semi-antagonistic individual among his people, Rory Oliver Carr is a passionate man. He spends his free time (that is, when he is not scaring the wits out of other people) writing poems and composing songs. He indulges himself in his hobbies as it trains his mind.

History: Rory Oliver Carr was raised in a wealthy family. In fact, his father is a major stockholder in one of the city’s bigger oil companies. Being the only son of his parents, Rory Oliver Carr should have, logically, received great attention from his parents. However, that was not the case. His father became too busy in expanding their empire, so he seldom had time at home. His mother, though a housewife, met a tragic demise when Rory Oliver was a mere two-year old. He was raised by the numerous helpers enlisted by Monsieur Carr (his father.) Without any permanent parent-figure, Rory Oliver Carr grew up to be alone. Yes, his father sent him to a private school to study, but the lack of parent tutelage had a big effect on Rory Oliver when he started to grow up. He became a moody, and bossy, little child among the kids.

He grew up with hate for his father; hate for not providing the need fatherly care he expected of him, hate that he failed to participate in his growing up. However, what he hated the most is society itself, for depriving him of what other kids were experiencing. When he graduated as *** laude after finishing a bachelor in physics, he immediately moved out his father’s house and started building his own life. His father felt how Rory Oliver Carr distanced himself from him so he compensated by still sending him a part of his fortune. Rory Oliver Carr spites him by spending all of this on things he does not need.

He met the love of his life when he was 24. Maria Richardson Carr is the only thing that Rory Oliver Carr learned to truly love. People were shocked when they discovered that Rory Oliver Carr managed to marry someone. An incident when Rory Oliver Carr misjudged the power of his mutation and hurt Maria. This became his reason to turn himself in into the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. He needs to be able to learn how to control his powers if he does not want to accidentally hurt his wife again. Currently, Maria is living with a housekeeper in the house Rory Oliver Carr put up in the city of Boston.

Mutation: Gravity Manipulation. By changing the gravitational field in each object, it could be repelled or attracted. It could easily be mistaken as magnetism, as its usual effect is attracting objects. However, Rory Oliver Carr showed that even non-metallic objects, like wood and plastic, are also affected. Rory Oliver Carr could not concentrate the field into a single object, resulting in a grouped attraction (meaning that he could not choose which specific object would be attracted.)

Rory Oliver Carr was jolted awake when the intercom from the cabin crackled. “Sir, we’re expected to touchdown in approximately fifteen minutes.” Rory Oliver Carr grabbed the microphone and snapped at the pilot. “I told you not to wake me up, until we’re there.”

“Sir, its standard procedure,” the pilot answered back, his voice as gruff as ever. Even though Rory Oliver Carr seemed to dislike the pilot (as much as he did anyone else), the pilot served him well for the past three years. Rory Oliver Carr trusted the man among few chosen other people.

“Standard or not, it is my plane. Therefore it is my rules. Get it?” He snapped into the mic again and closed it. He lost the want to sleep, so he took a glance outside. It was dark, probably around ten in the evening. He preferred to travel under the cloak of the darkness. Less people to play around with, and yet more inner peace. Rory Oliver Carr sighed. He’s been traveling for almost a few hours now since he decided to leave his wife. Maria. He never imagined that he could hurt her with his powers, but he did. Yes, it was an accident, but that does not disprove the fact that Maria is now in the hospital with a huge concussion. It does not either remove the fact that she does not want to talk to him. Maria…

The small plane took a sharp turn. From the distance, Rory Oliver Carr could see the silhouette of an imposing structure. He assumed that it was the school, the Xavier School for Higher Learning. He unconsciously twisted his fingers in the same manner he was doing for the past two years. The small pebble in front of him floated then rapidly fell down, making a permanent dent in the wooden table. The pressure inside his ears was climbing. The plane was descending. Soon enough, it hit solid ground.

“Sir, we’ve touched down.”

“Don’t you think I did not feel that rough bump you called landing?” Rory Oliver Carr snapped back. He opened the door and the cool blast of air rushed in. He smoothed out the black suit he was wearing. “Captain, my bags?” The captain appeared holding a suitcase. The captain is around forty years of age with a generous amount of facial hair. “Here it is, Rory.”

“No,” Rory said, getting the suitcase from the captain. “I guess my name will be kept hidden during my stay here.”

“How do you plan to be acknowledged?”

Rory Oliver Carr thought for a second. “I think… Graviton fits me well.” The pilot smiled. He held out his hand.

“Well, Graviton. I guess we’ll not be seeing each other for quite some time. It is just right that we shake hands?” The previous Rory Oliver Carr shook his head. “No. You are still a mediocre person.” The pilot laughed and retreated his hand as Graviton walked towards the entrance of the school.

EDIT: Added appearance and Personality, changed Mutation, started in History.
EDIT: Finished History and Mutation.
EDIT: DONE!

EDIT3: Added pretty much everything else. I may add more to the sample.

EDIT4: I think this is the best it will get. I hope it's good enough.

Spoiler:

Human Name: William "Billy" Campbell

Mutant Name: Hive

Age: 18

Height: 5'9/ 175cm

Weight: 149lbs/ 67kg

Appearance: To call William unassuming would not be stretching the truth. He stands at an average height, with some room left to grow a few more inches. He has a slim frame, but is athletic enough due to maintaining a rigorous cardio program. William shows off his Scottish roots with his thick, wavy brown hair, expressive light blue (bordering on a gray) eyes and light (yet somewhat peachy) skin tone. His hair is askew and hardly styled, often allow its waves to fly about freely in the wind. His expressive eyes are of average size, but remain to express more than enough emotion by themselves. William has a habit of communicating with his eyes, hoping others will pick up on his body language. That being said, he talks a lot as well, rambling on making such a quality a moot point in the end, unless one wants to catch him in a lie. His light skin never tans despite his best efforts, so he subsequently hides in his home unless urged to leave the confines of his parents' home. Only his arms and face have shade of color to them, making for awkward days at the beach. He has a youthful aura about his features, with few impurities staining his face. He has thin cheeks and lips, but a broad nose that adds some extra dimension to his face. William has a full yet thin beard, a result of a great deal of apathy towards shaving (he keeps himself quite groomed otherwise). Most people describe William as having a rustic charm about him, being attractive in a more natural manner rather than the photoshopped beauty of supermodels everywhere.

William is most comfortable in a pair of worn blue or gray denim jeans and a pair of equally worn black sneakers, having a limit on the number of shoes occupying his wardrobe. He wears darker long sleeve polo shirts, usually with the sleeves rolled up to about his elbow, though formal occasions with force him to wear the polo more naturally. A plain white undershirt is usually worn underneath, as William prefers leaving all the buttons undone but refrains from revealing much more than needed. William has invested in a couple of accessories, mainly a Rollex watch (stolen) and a couple of rings, which may or may not be stolen due to his long history of bending the law whenever such a behavior seems worthwhile. In addition, he has a few tattoos: the word "Legacy" written in fancy black script on his chest, a series of tribal tattoos on his arms (including the forearms) and a tattoo of his family crest on his back. William has considered piercings, but decided against such an investment finding them unattractive on both males and females.

Personality: William is narcissistic, self obsessed, impulsive and rebellious. William is rarely motivated by any form of morality, rather doing something for his own benefit or enjoyment. His desire for enjoyment guides many of William's actions, doing anything to get some sort of thrill. Sometimes it is as simple as pulling a prank, insulting someone or being a general nuisance. Other times, William will continue to develop his rebellious streak, breaking rules and contributing the ever growing chaos of society. As one could guess, William is overwhelmingly disrespectful, being rude to just about everyone unless they earn his respect or trust. As a result, he has few friends and looks up to even fewer. He's a compulsive liar, and convincing when doing so. He prefers to use his charm to advance his goals, recognizing these talents. He is something of a genius, but often overestimates himself and makes dumb mistakes, lacking the wisdom to properly use his natural talent. Perhaps his only real redeeming quality would be his sense of humor. William looks at life with a unique sense of humor, rarely taking things seriously. As a result, William remains calm in every situation never facing any significant amount of stress. This can have a positive effect on others as they will learn to look at the brighter side of things. Eventually. Additionally, William has an affectionate hobby of giving people he likes nicknames. So if he doesn't call you by your real name, it means he likes you.

However, William's mutant powers are taking a gradual toll on William's delicate mind. Because of the nature of his mutation, William's personality is being torn apart and put back together repeatedly. Imagine taking the human mind apart, shuffling around the pieces and then putting it together with glue and duct tape and you have an idea of William's personality is slowly becoming due to the overwhelming nature of his abilities. He is losing his grip on reality, making irrational observations and having full conversations with himself and his growing number of multiple personalities. These new personalities take root in different aspects of his own psyche. Some are based in an emotion while others are based on aspects of his own complete personality. Some are personifications of an emotion such as happiness or anger or sadness. Others are exaggerated qualities of his vast personality, such as a manifestation of an interest or hobby or something else. And some are repressed aspects of himself. Any these personalities and clones are continually used, they were become more realized. Additionally, William will continue to craft new personalities to cope with the rush of information they acquire and any strain his power will put on him. William's mind is the source of this power. The stronger his mind (or quantity of personalities, information, etc he has) the stronger he can become. As more personalities sprout up, the more overwhelmed William has the potential to become, potentially losing control of himself if William Prime (the original William) doesn't affirm control over the clones. It is entirely possible he can lose control to a clone, being influenced by them instead of the other way around. Sadly, William is relatively fickle in his own right making such a possibility very much a reality.

His growing insanity is causing a grand misuse of his abilities and questioning aspects of society that few would dare across. His morals continue to be stretched to a point of non-existant, progressively lacking any resemblance to the idea of remorse. To this end, William lives life with no regrets, rarely looking back at the past, living in the present whenever possible. What this also means, he has no problem crossing lines few would dare to tread near. William is and will continue to become completely amoral, doing what needs to be done without second thought. To replace these lost morals, William will possibly create new ones or toss aside such things completely. William himself doesn't know what is going to happen, as despite his intelligence and foresight his behavior is rather unpredictable. Perhaps William is becoming a philosopher, or perhaps he is just going crazy. Regardless of the reality behind the man, William is losing his mind. He is losing track on what he has done for example, losing bits and pieces of his memory, as he absorbs the memories of his clones upon reabsorption. But maybe creating new memories are the whole point. In the end, it doesn't matter. Because truth be told, he likes living in his own little world.

History: William was born and raised in Aberdeen, Scotland as the eldest child to a lovely young Scottish couple. Despite their youth, they held on their conservative values and worked hard to provide for their children. For all intents and purposes, they went about child rearing the right way, working to provide for them, guiding them through school, teaching them responsibility and going to Church to instill true morality into their ideal children. At first, William took these lessons to heart. But then he grew up. William grew bored of this "ideal" lifestyle, yearning for experimentation. And then the slippery slope began.

This epiphany that your storybook life was tiresome was when William was on the fringe of puberty. You could trace it back to his youth when William realized the Holy Bible lacked pictures, but that is besides the point. William grew bored of school, irksome towards his parents, and began to hate the entire concept of religion. The first acts against such a traditional system was minor at first. William would skimp on homework, being difficult with his parents and hardly pay attention at Church. It was fun for a while, but he needed a bigger rush. Something get the blood flowing. At school, he would hang out with the wrong crowds, cutting classes and "experimenting" with other activities. Crime, drugs, you know name it. As the years passed, the activities became ever more dangerous. His parents noticed the shift in behavior rather quickly and did everything they could to remedy William. Scoldings at first. Then therapy. It found the problem (he was going through a phase) but it never solved it. Church was no longer an option after William practically trolled a priest with a false possession. That was a fond memory.

Life took a sharp turn when William hit the age of 17. In his room, he suddenly found himself talking to himself. It wasn't the everyday moment when you have a conservation with yourself in order to clear your mind or reach a sudden moment of realization. No, William had literally had a full conversation with himself. A near perfect clone. William, unlike some who discover they are a mutant, was throughly excited by the moment. While he never obtained a great grasp on the power, William had enough knowledge to experiment and have some fun. He would send a clone out to school for him, letting him sleep. He would use a clone as a distraction when he wanted to steal something or start a fight. It would get him trouble, firmly believing that he was better at everything because of it. But it didn't matter. Being a mutant…it was fun.

However, he eventually got caught. He was found out and the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters wanted him. He didn't know why and he was in no position to care. His parents thought a boarding school would reform their troublesome child they were now afraid of. That was fine. It gave him a new opportunity to make someone else's life miserable.

Mutation: Self-Replication
William has the mutant ability to create copies, or clones of himself that are identical in appearance, including items on his person, though for the most part this is strictly limited to his clothing. While he is not aware of his upper limit of clones quite yet, he so far has limited himself to only several clones at a given time. As of right now, he is most comfortable with five or so, but this number with greatly rise with time and training. William's clones are created through a process comparable to that of mitosis, literally splitting off him in a less than beautiful process. William's clones are mostly independent, capable of independent thought and decision making. However, they are linked to William Prime (the original self) while having the same mind so they often work for the same purpose as they have the same goals. Therefore while William cannot explicitly control them, he can influence them through these shared links.

William is capable of reabsorbing his clones, acquiring their memories and acquired skills or abilities, giving William a form of accelerated learning. The acquisition of these skills is far from perfect and the longer a clone has been active and the more knowledge the clone has gathered, the less William will be able to synthesize. William can have a number of clones active a single time as well, though it can come at some cost due to the nature in which these clones are created. Due to the rapid mitosis, William's clones are created by taking aspects of William's personality and emotions and creating a personification of it. More complete clones are stronger (due to being formed from larger aspects of his personality) and William Prime subsequently loses aspects of himself. The more he uses the power, the more diverse clones are created as William will have to create multiple personalities to sustain his vast number of other selfs he creates on a regular basis. Clones are capable of dying with little effect on himself, however if William Prime dies all clones will disappear.

Writing Sample:

Spoiler:

It was a regular school night. Wait, no it wasn't. It was during finals season. William lost track of time way too easily. While school was far from his top priority, he didn't want to fail a class. In fact, despite his resounding amount of apathy, he was actually quite intelligent and got solid grades. The potential if he was to apply himself would be outstanding. The room was practically pitch black, only the light of his desk light and computer providing any illusion of daytime left. William knew if he peeked outside the silent night will overwhelm him. Overwhelm will the desire to seize the night and perform any misdeed he could imagine. Now wasn't the time, no. He had to focus. Just once. Just once he had to pretend to care. School was almost over. That is what he had to keep telling himself. William buckled down and hunched over his computer grinding out words like there was no tomorrow. Well, the paper was due tomorrow. That didn't do him any favors.

"I can't write anymair," William said with his relatively strong Scottish accent screaming through the frustration. He slammed his head on the table, resting his now dizzy self. He has been up for hours trying to finish out the paper. He regretted not at least giving it a quick look a couple days ago. But then again, hanging out with his friends to insult the new Irish kid was far too fun. William tried to remember why he cared and as he lifted himself from the table and lounged back in his chair. Right, it was the final few days of school. High school actually. William was going to graduate and then consider going to university somewhere. Well his parents wanted him to. That didn't mean he would listen. He hardly did to begin with. The last time he bothered to listen to them was when we taught him something useful. Was it how to drive a car? Probably. Or maybe it was advice on getting a job. He stared at the ceiling, what little he could see in the darkness. The shadowy oblivion was hypnotizing. He could feel sleep overtaking him. Wow, William was tired. More than he expected to be. That wasn't good. He sighed, resting his eyes. Just a couple of hours sleep should do the trick. Then he will blast through...and...finish...the...pa-

"Dean't ye know that you spelled "frustration" wrong?"

"Aye, thank ye. I'll fix it now," William perked up from his slumber and immediately went about fixing the error. How long was he out? Didn't matter. It was a simple mistake and probably a result of trying to pull an all nighter on a barely any sleep. Finals was really kicking William's ass. He would consider to stop overestimating himself, but that would be admitting that he wasn't the greatest at everything he tried. We are speaking of a man who can practically do anything if he gave a crap about it. "Wait a moment…" William shifted around in his seat facing where the mysterious voice came from. He couldn't real see the figure and turned to turn on a couple more lights on his desk. His parents were kind enough to add a number of lights near his desk in case any situation resembling the current one he happened to be in would arise.

"Hello!" The voice said, as William flicked on the lights. William's eyes took a few seconds to adjust the sudden flood of light. As his vision cleared, his expressive eyes widened in utter shock. William was stirred from his seat, the chair dropping like a rock with a fairly loud crash. The person was him. A near perfect double. A doppelgänger. William's mouth dropped and he swallowed, trying to regain his composure. He hadn't blinked since the reveal, but he forced several extended blinks to try to regain some grasp on reality. They circled around each other in perfect unison, William not removing his eyes from this copy. The copy in turn simply smiled, being rather joyful at the entire situation. The double mimicked all his moments with ease, as if they were connected. Not by something as simple as guessing what the other was doing. Something more. Something profound. Something impossible to explain. Was the clone reading his mind? No, that didn't make sense. Unless. Nah, that can't be right.

William thought that maybe he was just seeing things, but as he reached and touched the double's face, it was clearly a physical object. It was real. "Y-y-you are…" William began.

"Me?" The clone said. "Or would it be you? That be a tough nut to crack, right?"

William rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of everything. Was the clone saying? William would be witty about something like this if it wasn't so damn confusing. Then again, it did support the notion that the clone could be legitimate. But what if William simply took too many drugs. He did successfully overcome a few addictions already, but let's be fair. He does have a poor choice in friends. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Aye. I don't know. Maybe I just went and popped oot of nowhere. Oh, oh, oh! Maybe I am just in your head. Nah, that can't be right. Otherwise, this wouldn't hurt," the clone said slapping himself. "Ow." The logic wasn't full proof but one cannot feel pain in a dream. And he did touch this clone. It felt real. Everything about this felt real. He had considering that maybe he was just dreaming. But no, the clone felt real. This was real. William knew it. He wanted it to be real. It was too cool to hope otherwise.

"That doesn't help me figure out where you came from. Were you created? Like from a science lab? Are my parents trying to replace me?" William really wouldn't put it past them. They hated William. They wanted him to be more like his little brother, Jon. Rather ironic really, but then again Jon was a good kid. William had to admit that much. He was smart, obedient, dedicated and a well meaning child. He didn't inherit William's dashing good looks, but that was a once in a lifetime kind of beauty.

"Could you really blame them?" The clone questioned back, looking at William from the corner of his eye as he played around with the lights, flashing them on and off messing with William's eyesight. William got used to it after about the 10th time.

"No I guess not. But that doesn't really explain my concern. Were you created by some cloning company?"

"Maybe, but who would clone you?" The clone said with a chuckle. "You aren't that special, even if you think are. Or would it be think we are? This is terribly confusing."

"Yeah, good point," William said nodding his head as he looked back at his paper. No, that wasn't important anymore.

"I know. I'm pretty smart," the clone said with a sly smile, glancing at William who met his vision.

"Right. Comes from Wikipedia though." The clone and William crept closer together, making eye contact.

"Oh I love that site. Pressing random page is the best."

"I KNOW." Both "Williams" said at the same time at the top of their lungs. There was a moment of extended silence shared between them, as if they communicated without words. Just an exchange of thoughts, emotions and beliefs. Their eyes as their means of doing so, if even. Was eye contact needed? Maybe it was just a mutual understanding. Perhaps they spoke with their thoughts and didn't realize it. Perhaps it went even deeper. Whatever it was, it was beyond comprehension. Beyond anything they could understand. Or care too. The fact of the matter was, William was understanding something far greater. The clone was something special. William was something special.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" William said.

"Do you really need to asking something like that?" The clone said, sighing a bit before the two laughed in unison. "The paper isn't that important anyway." With that William and his clone grabbed their coats and stepped out the room. The computer remained on, untouched for the rest of the night.

Robin is able to manipulate his eyes' ability to interpret light at different wavelengths. The pupils of his eyes rotate and change in size (and sometimes shape) in a process that's visually very similar to a camera lens going in or out of focus. By doing this, Robin is able to switch the wavelengths of light he sees, in order to "see" in infrared, or ultraviolet frequencies of light.

Robin is able to manipulate his eyes' ability to interpret light at different wavelengths. The pupils of his eyes rotate and change in size (and sometimes shape) in a process that's visually very similar to a camera lens going in or out of focus. By doing this, Robin is able to switch the wavelengths of light he sees, in order to "see" in infrared, or ultraviolet frequencies of light.

Hey dude, just letting you know, goats are able to see 330 degrees not just because of the way their eyes are formed, but also the placement on their head. So unless Renzo has eyes by his ears, then you might want to re-look at that facet of the ability. You could also look into extending your ability with the old "eyes in the back of your head" trick that parents sometimes pull. Could be interesting.....

If I could reserve a spot, that would be nice. However, I see that I am a little late getting into the mix of things and more then four-six people have posted their SU's/reservations. So if not able to reserve a spot, I understand. I will be working on a SU just in case.

Greetings True Believers! Thank you all for this strong and immediate response to X-Men: United. There are some very interesting and promising SU's being posted, I look forward to seeing some of them completed!

I want to take this opportunity to say that I will not be accepting reservations - entry into this RP will be based entirely on SU quality, not first come first served. It IS worth your time to 'reserve' an SU spot. Letting me know you're working on one means I can try and allow you the time to get it finished before I start making decisions.

DONE! I put the mutation AFTER the writing sample, simply because that is when I first address his mutation. I hope that is alright!

Spoiler:

Human Name: Boyce LeBreau

Mutant Name: Les Ouragan ("The Hurricane")

Age: 23

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 185

Appearance: Boyce is what most would refer to as a looker. Hailing from a family with devilishly good looks, Boyce has never had to "hurt" for anything that he has ever wanted. Boyce is known by his friends and family for spending a good bit of time in the sun, and due to this he has a fairly good tan going. Besides his golden skin, Boyce has a short but stylish head of chestnut brown hair that is finished off with a hint of blonde hidden in his bangs. Boyce also spends a good bit of his time working out and has an impressive but balanced amount of muscle, and spent all four years of high school on the soccer and baseball fields. Coming in at 6'2", Boyce is one of the taller members of his family, coming in second only to his 6'5" mother. In terms of his eyes, Boyce is a peculiar character. There are days were his eyes are the brightest of blues, and there are nights where his eyes are the deepest of emerald greens. There is no true singular color to Boyce's eyes. In terms of his clothing, Boyce is a character of the brighter colors. Whether it is a neon green polo with khaki shorts, or a pair of tattered jeans and a blue sweater, Boyce will throw any array of colors together to complete his look. He's been known for pushing the colorful boundaries more then once in his good ole' hometown of Meraux, Louisiana, but he has more than enough toughness to back his clothing decisions up. More on that to follow.

Personality: Despite the wide array of colors that Boyce likes to utilize with his wardrobe, he is not quite as open as some would expect. As a whole, Boyce is a guarded, quiet, yet respectful fellow of a good upbringing. Boyce has a mixture of a thick southern accent mixed with a pinch of French, and it is for this reason solely that he is more guarded then most you would encounter. Boyce has always been the kind to pour himself into his hobbies rather than his studies, and it was for this reason that he was a breakout athletic star at his high school in Meraux, Louisiana. This is not to say that Boyce does not have smarts, however. Boyce has a personality that will not let him simply ignore his studies, regardless of whether he does them when originally assigned, and will always find a way to do the necessary things to be successful. Also, he is not the "leech" type. If there is something that needs to be done, then Boyce will do it, and he would much rather do it alone over asking for help. This is not to say he does not work well with others, but due to his shy nature and personality he is not the type to strike up conversation, regardless of whether he is in trouble or not. It was due to this stubborn nature that he sought out athletics and the prospect of teamwork to help him break out of his shell, but even with such efforts he still found himself going the loner route. He found success in athletics, but at a cost...

He just seems bitter.

Apart from the way he carries himself in his athletics, Boyce is what most would consider to be a prick. Now, as explained, he is just shy. Regardless of that fact however, Boyce has not been the best at presenting himself in a warm nature. Even in his highest moments of success, winning awards, trips to playoffs with his teams, etc., Boyce still stuck to the lonelier side of the road. He pushed away any guy that seemed to get a feel of who he was, mainly due to the feelings of lust and romance that swelled inside his head (and heart) when such closeness occurred. Yes, Boyce is gay. Boyce is closer with his mother then his father, but that is not to say that there is any tension between the two. In fact, it yet again comes down to athletics. Boyce's mother was an athlete for most of her life leading up to her marriage to Boyce's father, and it was she that instilled the athletic mentality in Boyce. The hunger for something more. It is worth noting that as hard as it may seem, it is not entirely impossible to get to know one Mr. Boyce LeBreau. With a little work, even the most guarded of the guard can be cracked.

Like a tumbling mound of brick.

History: The story of Boyce LeBreau began shortly after the marriage of Mr. and Mrs.'s Sebastien LeBreau. Born to an athlete and a up-and-coming American-French composer, it could be said that Boyce LeCreau was never meant to have a normal life. Drove by his mother to the athletics, while constantly pleaded with by his father to pursue music, Boyce found himself being forced into deciding at an early age whether he would be a famous athlete or a respected composer. Starting Boyce in sports at just the age of eight, Mrs. Ilyona LeCreau signed Boyce up for both travel baseball and soccer teams, and it could be agreed upon that Boyce never had a true childhood. Boyce was not always the shy, reserved nice boy you see. He developed a rather unhealthy competitive nature at an early age, and losing was not something that Boyce (nor his mother) took kindly to. Boyce would keep up his sporting education throughout the travel circuit of both sports until the age of thirteen, where he would then throw one of his biggest temper tantrums in both sports to date. With his competitive nature and overall talent on both fields, coaches in both sports were demanding more and more of him, pleading for more of his time. It was then that he decided to step back and exit the travel circuit, much to the displeasure of both coaches. Also aiding in the decision would be a mysterious and frightening rain storm that arrived on the scene of a soccer tournament, washing away both person and goal posts alike. It was here that Boyce began to lose his "spoiled brat" attitude and began to truly love the sport (or sports), and despite no longer playing on the travel circuit for either sport he found a certain level of leniency in each sport once entering high school.

There's a storm on the horizon, sugar.

Leaving the higher level of competition for high school sports turned out to be a good route to go for young Boyce. At the age of 14 as he first entered high school, Boyce had already built up a certain level of notoriety for his athletic abilities. Boyce was one of the "cool kids", had plenty of friends, and always had a steady stream of girls that chased after him. Wait, isn't this kid gay? Yes, it was at this time that Boyce began to understand that when he hung out with the town "hottie", or the principal's daughter that he felt nothing. There wasn't a feeling of desire to kiss either girl, or any other girl for that matter, and that lead to a good deal of rage in the young boy's heart. Why couldn't he feel something for them? Was something wrong with him? Surely this wasn't normal... Right? Boyce began to channel the frustrations he was feeling into his athletics, becoming in a sense reckless, and found himself being penalized constantly for his dangerous actions. The anger just wouldn't stop building, no matter how hard he tried to stay calm, and soon the star athlete was more feared then he was respected. Of course, with his level of skill and ability neither team could do without him, but Boyce again found himself living in his own world. Outspoken at one time he was now quiet, dealing and tackling his frustrations all on his own in the noise of his own mind. The anger within him never got better, even after discovering at the age of 17 that he was indeed a homosexual male. His athletic abilities continued to grow with each coming year, and the athletic accolades kept coming in for the struggling Boyce. However, there was one thing that eluded the aspiring athlete. A state title in soccer. Baseball titles rolled in for Boyce all four years of high school, but soccer continued to elude him.

Finally close, in his senior year.

It was all right there for the taking. Boyce and his Chalmette High School Owls facing off against the Archbishop Rummel Raiders in a game that was destined to be played in the rain. The two schools were rivals in the regular season, with each team taking a win in their prior two season meetings, and both schools had made their improbable runs to the state final. Neither team was expected to be there, and yet both teams acted as if they had been there before. The stage was set for their most dramatic meeting yet. Both teams wanted it, both teams had their star players, and the rival was up and running at full speed. Boyce would score two early goals for his Chalmette Owls, using his strong legs and cheetah-like speed to fly past the competition. Archbishop Rummel was not to be outdone however, and would retaliate with their own brand of success with just moments left in the game. So overtime it is. Both teams would continue to gut it out, fighting (literally) for the ball with every ensuing possession. Chalmette looked to be seizing control of things with an array of smooth passing and blitzing speed, but Archbishop had different plans. Violent ones. With Boyce closing in on the goal and just the keeper in his way, the keeper took a hard shot at the legs of Boyce, sending him flying through the air. Boyce was hurt, or hurting, and he could feel the rain running down his limp body more now then he had when he was running. There was a crippling pain running down his thigh and into his left leg, causing Boyce to scream out in pain. Everything went dark...

The specifics of the incident are still rather cloudy for one Mister Boyce LeBreau. He barely remembers standing, let alone the surge of water that would soon envelope both his body and those of the Archbishop Rummel athletes. He didn't remember trying to drowned them nor did he remember the conversation that he had in his head with a rather peculiar voice, the voice later proving to be that of Professor Charles Xavier. There had been no prior incidents with his powers showing, not ever, so that too had managed to mess with the teen's head. Why him? Why Boyce? Boyce had never messed with anyone, and he had certainly never bullied anyone that was less fortunate than he. So why? It wasn't a curse by any means, but it also wasn't something that he could brag about. Boast. People had fled in sheer terror when the water had began to fall, screaming loudly when Boyce began swirling it around himself and the others like a whirlpool. Of course, he had not planned it that way, but the simple minds of a small town did not see it that way. Boyce, once the star of "Meraux's Team", was now the town freak. Oh, what a freak he was. No one wanted anything to do with the young heartthrob, once adored by all, and matters were even worse for his family members. All sorts of things were thrown at them when they showed their faces in public, whether it be food or something heavier.

Life is so cruel.

Following the crazy turn of events, things got crazier. Boyce and his family decided to relocate to a more... Swampy part of Louisiana, leaving the life among friends and family for a more deserted look Boyce, already shy and reserved, struggled with accepting the move. Now sure he was different, and sure he had powers... WHY did life have to change in such a sick manner? His family too, resented him for having to leave their home of all those years. More time was spent in his room, hiding away from the eyes and conversation of the few that weren't scared or disgusted of the boy. He did a little work with his abilities, minor things, such as manipulating the swamp waters around the family home when no one was watching. He did not have a great deal of control over his abilities, thanks in large part to his own resentments, but he was growing to accept himself more with each passing day. Things weren't that bad, after all... None of the people that had chased Boyce and his family had managed to find their new home, as the few people that still cared to be associated with the family were every bit as careful as they could be when visiting. Of course, that wasn't to say they wanted to see Boyce manipulating water, either. They were still very resentful of that, in fact...

Things would again change, however. On the day of Boyce's eighteenth birthday, there was a knock at the door. Not one of the discussed knocks for their visitors, instant terror struck Boyce and his family. Was this the end? Had their pursuers finally caught them? No, don't be silly.

"You can stop with the water tricks." The voice rang out, almost frightening. "We are not here to harm you, we want you to join us. With our help, I feel you could really grow and understand your abilities better than what you do now. You are not a freak, Mr. LeBr-"

I'm not interested. Please, leave me alone." Boyce was not used to the voices in his head being anyone then himself, so stringing words together was quite difficult. "I am happy here. With family. I don't want to understand my powers, because I don't want to be this way. I don't want to be this person..."

"Fair enough, Mr. LeBreau. I have a feeling you will change your mind. Sooner rather than later."

The conversation, albeit mentally, was a conversation that struck Boyce all the way to his core. It was enough to make him stop manipulating water for a good two years, whether for leisure or other purposes. He would also go on the run, leaving his family and all the memories of Louisiana behind in a puddle of rash decisions. Life had to be better on the outside... Right? So much of what was going on in his world now was unanswered confusion, and that was something that he did not like. Running of course didn't seem to make it any better, but it did temporarily numb the constant flow of negative emotions in him mind.

Boyce would continue to live his life on the run for the next six years, straying further and further from the life of the mutated. He had learned more control, albeit incidentally, but there was still a certain hesitance in him to use his abilities. However, it was with the last attempted contact from the X-Men that Boyce finally gave in. Sure, he was living a different life, and sure he was happier... However, he wasn't as happy as he knew he could be. The X-Men, although a drastic change that he had avoided for years, were just the change that a struggling mutant needed. Mutant... Still so funny to say. Life wasn't getting any easier with the coming years, and the urge and fight in him to use his powers were at it's highest. If Boyce was going to be a mutant, then damn it he was going to do it on the path of the straight and narrow. About as straight as a gay man can go is down a path with no bends...

Pain was ringing through his body. His leg began to seize up, and he screamed out in pain, and yet all Boyce could hear was laughter. Sick, manipulative laughter. Here he lay, soaking wet in the puddled grass, unable to move as the action around him went on. Boyce could hear nothing and he could see nothing, no he had not the slightest idea that Archbishop had just scored the winning goal. All he could feel was the pain in his leg, with the pain now soaring through the rest of his body, and a building anger in his chest. He wasn't sure how he had managed to stand, and he didn't care. Not a damn bit did he care, no the rage was steadily building in his chest and it was like a ball of fire. Burning at him, fighting it's way up his throat and down to his finger tips... He wanted to punch something, he wanted to let loose... In due time, my dear..

As Boyce began taking small steps forward, there was a new feeling in his body. The rage has subsided, and there was an eerie calm coming forth. He slowly opened his eyes, first looking to his leg and taking notice of the swelling around his ankle . That's not pretty. Pulling his socks down and removing his shin guards, Boyce nearly doubled over in shock. There it was again, the sick pain and aggression, fighting it's way through Boyce. He could hear and see things around him, and he could comprehend everything, but he was far from being "present". He tore his socks off, stepped out of his shoes, tossed his jersey to the ground and ran. Just ran. The target was the huddle of celebratory Raider players, all hosting their trophy and shouting obscenities in the direction of the Chalmette players and fans. They had not earned that trophy, they had not bleed and worked as hard as Boyce had... Everything that they were celebrating? It was false. Not deserved. That trophy belonged to Boyce and Chalmette, and he was damn sure going to make sure that they got it back. They were clearly more deserving because they were faster, because they worked better as a team, and lastly because they didn't play dirty like Archbishop.

"That trophy is mine. Hand it over."

Boyce was now standing in the middle of their huddle, reaching out for the trophy. The players from Archbishop Rummel had just barely turned around when things began to really change. The rain, which had stopped falling while Boyce lay injured on the ground, was picking up again. The puddles? The puddles of water that littered the soccer field began to dance in a way that seemed almost haunting, drawing many stares and comments. Boyce was the only person that didn't seem to notice, his eyes and his attention focused solely on the trophy that was now singularly in the hands of the keeper that had brought him down. A smirk had now found it's way across the face of the boy, and laughter began to erupt from the lungs of the supporting cast. There it is again. The anger was mounting steadily higher, and the water that covered the field was now dancing in the form of waves.

"Forget it bud. Chalmette lost, and you have no one but yourself to thank for that. Nice dive, by the way..."

That was the final straw. Boyce closed his eyes, his breathing slowed, and everything went black. Literally. The rain was now falling at a faster pace, and the waves of water swarmed around Boyce and the opposing players. Screams could be heard ringing out in the crowd, and fear could be seen plastered across the face of the boys trapped in the whirlpool of water. Everyone except Boyce. Boyce was screaming in his head, trapped in the confusion of it all, longing to understand what was going on around him. He had lost control of his body long ago, to the rage and the desire for the trophy, and now there was nothing he could do. Trying to will himself to move, the sudden movement instead caused the water to rush towards himself and the other boys at a more rapid pace. The rain continued falling, only to join the puddles of water that were forming into waves. The last of the fans began running for cover, and soon it was just Boyce and the boys he'd trapped in the waves that were left on the field.

How did it come to this?Where was this even coming from?WHY NOW?!

"Boyce, stop. You don't want to do this."

Suddenly there was a new voice, ringing it's way through Boyce's troubled mind.

"I can't control this! I don't even know what is going on. One minute I was mad, and then... Then... Oh hell, I don't know! This is all new, I didn't know I could do this! I'm scared... I don't even talk this much outside of my thoughts, why am I talking to you in here, now? Who are you anyways? How do you know my name? I don't recognize your voice, and quite frankly I don't like the fact that you are in my head right now sug!"

"All will be explained in due time, Mr. LeBreau. For now, close your eyes and breathe."

Oh this is the beginning? What a cruel beginning this is...

Mutation:Aqua Manipulation: Boyce has the ability to manipulate any body of water as well as rainwater, although he has little to no control over matters. Boyce first came into his abilities around the age of 17, during the state championship game for soccer in his senior year of high school. Before the intervention of a mysterious voice in his head, Boyce nearly drowned a group of opposing players in a whirlpool of water. He has sense learned to deal with his abilities a little better then when he was 17, but the level of control still continues to waiver on his mood. As stated, Boyce can manipulate any body of water, whether that be a pond or the Atlantic Ocean. The possibilities are endless. Now at the age of 23, Boyce intends to attend the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters in hopes of learning to better manage his abilities and to make friends that are more like him. This comes after years of running or avoiding contact with the X-Men after the incident on the soccer field, trying his best to ignore his abilities and living in means that wouldn't trigger his aqua manipulation. Boyce has never abused these abilities, although he has managed to have some fun with it when at the beach or in the pool, albeit alone when doing so. The discovery of his ability has since made Boyce a lot more bashful, and he's reluctant to talk to anyone that doesn't speak to him first. It's also not uncommon for bottles of water to burst around him when he is nervous.

Appearance: Attractive is not the word you would think of to describe Kaya right away, if she were left to her own devices. Of course you would have to see her first. But when you do see her, she is very... I suppose filthy would be the right word. Small and always looking at the ground, matted auburn hair falling over her face to the point where you can't even see her eyes, she is a very disgusting individual from a distance. She knows this, Kaya likes this. She hopes it will get people to leave her alone.

Unfortunately these days she cannot take this above appearance, except once in a great while. Her hair was forced to be brushed until it gleamed, but it still rests over her face rather blindly on one side. It would take a lot of skill to notice the glimmering green eyes that hold more caution than curiosity. Peek-a-bangs indeed.

Kaya has a cute figure when she bothers to show it. Well, almost. Her left hand is permanently disfigured and mutilated, almost to match the bites like human teeth and the gouging of nails that eventually stopped going away. Her wrists and ankles show signs of handcuffs chafing her skin and there is a permanent limp in her petite step. Small and even now, still underweight, she cannot shake her roots of the place she lived, no matter how much people scrub off the dirt, no matter how much the girl attempts a smile. Don't even get her started on the bandages on her neck either.

Now that she has clothes that do come close to fitting her, she is very often seen in them. However, the ones she came home in still have an odd place in her heart, so secretly packed away from her is the revealing dress she had been in, resewn into a pillow by her father. Kaya instead, wears a hunter green, frilly sleeved shirt, revealing more of her arms and her breasts than she desires. Her legs are notably hidden by long dirt-brown pants that are almost like jeans. She wishes her arms could be covered more but the feeling of her arms being bare is something she is much too used to.

An adamant flower with blue petals rests upon the center of her collarbone, a lotus. It is a brooch, held there by a violet fabric clasped in the back. It is good luck charm, an expensive one.

Depending on her feelings at the time of using her powers, she tends to wear a relatively soft outfit. A Valkyrie in form, at least in part, she stands as a young woman, almost as she is supposed to. Confident, warm, almost able to take charge over the situation, her auburn hair is brushed out of her face and tied into a braid. Kaya even stands a little taller, dressed in a pure white sleeveless robe tied with golden thread that falls down to her ankles. Her feet are remarkably bare, as though she is now suddenly too cool for shoes. Over her arms is a cloak of feathers. She also has a pouch of silver darts wrapped around her waist. When she is afraid, the power tends to crackle, like she’s burning wood and her eyes have a tendency of turning orange. Otherwise, it is relatively calm. Of course, if she could help it, her mutation wouldn’t be used at all.

Personality: It's not easy to forget what you are. The fairy tale prince ending doesn't exist; there is no happily ever after that comes out all right. You have to heal slowly, or hope to do it. But sometimes you don't. And the shadow lingers like a bruise on your brain.

Kaya knows this very well.

Timid and obedient, Kaya Alabast is frequently forgotten and left to waste away on her own. This is what she wants. If she is noticed, the hands will roam and she will likely fall into a panic attack. She was supposed to be a Valkyrie, but instead, she is too meek, too willing to follow the crowd. She is expecting fondling, assault in a safe environment and the mere concept of this event sends her into terrors at the simple tap on the shoulder. It's rather painful to watch at times, but if she's aware of the pity sent her way, she will not speak of it. Pain and pleasure have mixed rather thickly in her mind and pity is rather misinterpreted. She is very sensitive to the emotions people have; but she doesn’t have any idea what they mean.

In truth Kaya doesn't speak at all really. No one has heard it except her father and even then it is reportedly a whisper. Most of the time, if you catch her attention, she'll write on a white board and hide her face behind it. Even if she did talk, it'd be to the floor. However, it isn't because she's quiet that she's intelligent. It's because books are her new escape. And a part of her is still in deep shock, uncertain of how real this is and how she is supposed to behave. She can't even do social mannerisms properly for the most part. Eye contact? Nope. Speaking properly and not at the floor? Nope. Shaking hands. Certainly nope.

When she finally opens up to someone Kaya becomes rather dependent on their company. She won't say much and you may forget she's there... but she may be found following you like a lost puppy, just listening or working. It happened to her father... but it will likely take a long time for her to do such a thing in this new environment, particularly with over-familiarity likely to occur.

Kaya has quite a bit of despair in her, believing this really isn't happening and she's just trying to comfort herself over the real suffering. This makes her inwardly spiteful and her thoughts can frequently be dark and icy. In reality seeing another in pain gives her a pulse of pleasure and a desire for people to have more of it and enjoy it. It's not simply out of anger, but because it's been very hard for her to tell the clear difference between her suffering and their enjoyment. So for all she knows that's giving them what they want, making it worse. This sort of heartless person, so quickly spiteful and cruel, is practically another part of herself, the part that was able to give what was wanted and needed. Though indistinct, selfish, even rather naive and foolish, this is Syr. And she is not happy to be here. Syr is also talkative, chatty and general out-and-out annoying.

However, as her kindness has been blossoming, unknowingly tended by her father's care, Kaya also struggles to be brave enough to speak and smile again, genuine smiles. She does make the effort to smile at servants and help in silence. As she grows more comfortable, doing this will likely become more second nature and normal. She doesn't mind assisting others... as long as she doesn't have to touch them. She's even been able to cry at dying puppies. She has a severe, contradictory hatred of her mutation, even though her father and fellows at her home feel no shame in it. She hates it for multiple reasons; its untimely appearance, the danger of it, and that it requires a type of thing that she simply cannot do yet.

History: Not everyone has a wonderful start, but everyone certainly has to try and make the best of it. Kaya knows this. However, understanding and doing is easier said than done.

Kaya Alabast was born in London, the pregnancy difficult and also not taking place in a hospital. It was a young woman, a high schooler to be precise. She had made more than quite a few mistakes and one of those was not contacting the father. Though... she didn't have a phone. A... worker at a prostitute agency (to keep this polite) struck a deal with the young, impressionable teenager. We pay for your hospital trip; you give up the child. Rather not wanting to die, the young teen agreed to this, not entirely sure of the deal she had just struck and what would happen to her newborn daughter. She was happy someone would be able to provide for her though and even more pleased that they would both likely live through this.

She was rather off... wasn't she?

There was little use for a baby in a prostitute agency in truth. However, this man was clever. He had a messenger in that little girl and someone to brainwash into the arts of pleasure and money-making while doing it, even teaching her how to read and write. Though a little girl was not much pleasure for any normal person, that didn't mean those kinds of people did not exist. And even though Kaya didn't entirely grasp the situation, she was well aware of the wrongness of it as well. Because the touches and words continued to vary and swirl in her mind, it leaded to her simply shutting down and obeying, fearful of what would happen otherwise. Punishments were not very kindly done. One of these had actually torn apart her left hand, it unable to heal properly. Then again, was pleasure not the same, bruises that sang of desire? Because of this, her mutation, which could have manifested sooner, was held back and rightly so. She could have killed someone. Or a lot of someones.

It was at the age of ten that everything changed. Then twenty-five-year-old James Alabast, father to young Kaya, who had until that moment had gone by Caron, something that the worker had found endearing, stormed the place, for lack of a better term. He had found her existence out from her mother, who had long since left the country. Guilty for not knowing and possibly considering such a thing happening, he hunted down his daughter to try and repair what damage he could. In truth, as he would admit to her later, he had wanted children but he didn't know it would be... quite so young as this. Since Kaya had been sleeping in her tiny cot at the time before being whisked out to her own family, the first thought in the little girl's mind was that she was being kidnapped and her boss would not get his pay.

Over the long drive back to the house they would live in, James spoke quietly and explained this all to her. She expected something horrible to happen o her during this. However, he did not go near her or reach out to her barring to carry her inside and examine her health. And even then, his fingers only ghosted over her. To anyone else, this would have been a sign of dislike. But to Kaya, it was respect and perhaps that made him endear to her. So did the name Kaya, the first thing she could honestly claim was hers.

That isn't to say the first year or so wasn't awkward and that it still isn't now. Oh no, they had quite a lot of trouble with each other due to Kaya's constant fear of the associate worker waking her for a job she was harmed by. Also, James was struggling to understand how to work with such a different child than his imagination. Kaya did not have the fear that he did not love her like other children would. She had no idea what the word meant. However, when James did take the risk of hugging her, she did realize that he was a safe person and to be safe around someone meant so much more. What also helped was that, due to his high status, he could afford to buy many books and materials and homeschool her. It rather amused the servants, who remembered the irresponsible brat who skipped school and stole from candy shops. Perhaps this was what allowed them to adore little Kaya, who soaked up information like a sponge. He taught and she learned and slowly Jamie began to make a girl out of a street rat. The therapist did help, even though Kaya barely spoke to her.

It is unfortunate, but this life was not magically sunshine and rainbows afterward. Her mutation, which had been unintentionally held back by fear, decided to show itself during a walk in the garden. She had been frightened off by a group of her father’s fellow businessmen, and while he was looking for her, she managed to get herself caught in a rosebush. Panic mounting, James heard her screaming bloody murder and found her still caught in the thorny vines and bleeding. Wherever her hands scrabbled however, the plants died and weakened their grip, and small cuts from the thorns were quickly healing. Finally managing to get her free, he found his daughter unharmed aside from her clothing, and a prized rosebush rotting in the dirt. Unfortunately Kaya was not even close to calm. Syr, who had been completely disinterested in the goings on, was suddenly aroused, and was trying to peek her head out.James managed to calm her, and with some reluctance, sent a letter to Professor Xavier. He had not quite wanted to, because he didn’t really trust his daughter in a dangerous setting like that after only a few years. He knew he was lucky she trusted him.

However, he did respond and promptly informed the father that his daughter could possibly be healed as thoroughly there as here, but if her mutation went out of control again, rumors might spread. Mutants were not exactly the most wonderful existence in Europe either.

Mutation: --Cell Waver- she is able to soothe the pain of others by taking it into herself, almost to the point where they forget it exists. The sense of peaceful warmth ensures the rest of her ability, the restoration of cells and energy in a person, sometimes to extent of searing a wound closed. In return, her body opens up the wounds and is yet too weak and uncontrolled to do little more than cuts and bruises or plants. Living cells are her limit. She can’t make a pencil tap dance.

Related to the deeply set sadism in her, she can makes someone feel all of the pain she has felt with a simple touch. This also makes it very easy for her to turn her power from revive cells to destroying them and taking the energy for herself. However, both of these require physical contact with living creatures and Kaya simply does not have the emotional willpower to do that. The ability is limited to around her hands unless extremely emotional, and even then, it usually knocks her unconscious. Very unhelpful. Not that Syr is much better.

Writing Sample:

Planes were new. They were very new. They were also bigger than her, shinier, and certainly reflective.

Kaya had read a lot about planes. Heroes in books seemed to favor them, or simply favor flight in general. Kaya wondered why. James had not been able to answer the one time she had murmured loud enough to hear. He had laughed actually, carefree, rather embarrassed laughter. She still wondered how the sound could be quite like that.

There was a snore from next to her ear and a grunt. Kaya almost jumped and then saw the pale, sleeping face of her father. Or the man who called himself her father. What the difference may have been she couldn’t tell herself. He had been anxious since that letter had come in the mail only days before. She had not read it of course, rule thirteen in the how-to-survive-boss handbook (coined by her fellows and unforgettable) was never read the mail without express permission from the writer. At any rate, if it made kind, passive James unhappy, then it was something to be cautious of. The servants all said that, and Kaya always listened to the servants. They were smarter than she about such matters.

If Mr. James was so agitated, could it be about the plane? Could it be about the place they had to go to? She hoped it would have lots of flowers. Only a few days ago, she had discovered peonies in a secret part of the house and spent hours trying to draw them. She had failed, naturally. Kaya had neither been encouraged nor discouraged by this failure. She had simply tried again after her free hand had stopped hurting. She still was horrible at writing with her non dominant hand. Kaya would manage. She had to. James couldn’t talk for her all the time. He certainly wanted to.

Her gaze, half-hidden, traveled out to view the window of the plane. It was so vibrant, full of greens and reds and many colors of flowers and cars. They had to be going to a strange place then, one much like London. So it would be noisy... and painful... and full of people.

Kaya cringed in her seat. Like an unspoken cue, her father’s thumb stroked the top of her mangled hand. She almost cringed again, wishing to hide her face in auburn curls. James yawned in her face, making her jump. Some of the girls had always done that, except it was on her ear. He blinked his green eyes at her like an owl and smiled. It was strained and seemed to cause him pain.

“Mr. James?” she uttered softly. “Do you... not want to do this?” Whatever this may have been.

He blinked. The man had not expected it clearly. Then he shook his head, thumb continuing to lazily circle the bones under her scarred knuckles. “Afraid not. I finally found you Kaya. Just because the world hates mutations and difference-” He saw her flinch as realization hit her. “Doesn’t mean I do. However,” James let out an unhappy sigh. “I want to keep you safe... from the world and you.” Kaya blinked. Those phrases were new. “And that means you have to learn what you can do. Or what you could do.” She nodded slowly. Kaya did not understand, but a lump formed in the pit of her stomach as the plane began to descend.

So she was going to a school far away from James... and London... and... what she knew.

“Professor Xavier,” her father began softly. “Is a good man. He has strong, kind ideals, and a bit too much honor. It has kept those with the X-Gene safe all these years, so it counts for something. You will be fine. I’ll write. Gosh knows you can’t answer a phone.”

A small giggle escaped Kaya’s lips as the runway grew wider in her sight. She could be scared; she already was, but there was an alien sort of pleasure in knowing Mr. James was unhappy too.

Appearance: Hua has a short, petite body. With large brown eyes, Hua is often described as cute before pretty and has never verbally denied the claim. She has long brown hair which, while it has curl to it, is mostly straight. Hua's nails are painted pink and usually wears clothes of the some color. She doesn't over-pink it, but she does wear a little with every outfit. Her converse shoes are pink and she wears a pink, large-beaded bracelet. While a pink bracelet is a bit of her signature, Hua wears a variety of clothes and doesn't have too much of an opposition to trying something a little out of her range.

Hua's hair is usually in a pony-tail, though she has nothing against letting it down. She doesn't wear many, if any at all, hair accessories and prefers not to. Hua is very talented when it comes to make up and hers always seems to be applied perfectly. Hua regards her appearance very highly and doesn't accept less than the best for herself.

Personality: When you meet her, it's very easy to call Hua kind and respectful. She's very friendly and often makes friends with very little trouble. Hua is also an active part of her community. Hua often partakes in many clubs or school activity, easily earning the image of the frequently seen student. She's known by most teachers and her grades are spectacular. However, most of Hua's outward attitude is merely an image.

In truth, Hua is fiercely ambitious and none too accepting. She goes under an "every man for himself" policy and undeniably desires to be the big fish. She's not above any lying, cheating, stealing, or manipulating to get what she wants. To her, everyone is a pawn and there are very few permanent players. Her friends are temporary assets and she has often caused the breakup of multiple close relationships between others, unbeknownst to them. To accompany her lack of loyalty, Hua looks down on most people. She isn't very tolerant of others and is a believer in the idea that non-mutants are an old and inferior race. Hua never makes her motives quite clear, but it's obvious that she's in a search for power.

Hua is adamant in her attempts to master her power and has few plans on stopping until she's perfect. She looks down on weakness and isn't kind to those she views as useless. The term "the meek will inherit the Earth" is laughable to her. It's funny to her that an idea like that could even be considered, especially when she plans to eradicate the meek.

Hua is at her worst when she's at her nicest. It's probably a good thing to see her frown.

History: Hua was born in an unimportant Taiwanese town in March. She was was an only child and still is, which doesn't bother her at all. The arrangement hadn't been on purpose, much to the frustration of her parents. They couldn't have any other kids. When she was young, that was a problem, but as she got older it became something easy to come to terms with.

The events of Hua's personal life are not as important as the events around it. As mutants became more and more widespread, so did the fear around them. Where she lived, mutants were largely unaccepted and unanimously hated. They were thought of as demons, or people bound to do some sort of evil, on purpose or by accident. There were enough villains as well as heroes in the world and her neighbors could have been described as pessimistic. The problem was so much so that they had a gang who took it upon themselves to eradicate the mutant menace. Most people were afraid of them, not because those people themselves were mutants, but because the gang didn't exactly have a valid or consistent way of determining who was a mutant or not and several innocents died in their wake. Fortunately and unfortunately, the gang were not a bunch of locals and we actually traveling in search of mutants with the backing of many people, though they were completely vigilante. As they traveled, they killed. Sometimes killing one person or whole families or towns to protect Taiwan. So yes, naturally people were afraid. Many made sure that their children were perfect, more so than they already did, in an effort to stop any interested eyes from alerting the gang their way. This is what Hua's parents did.

It was not only to protect her, but to protect themselves and their name. Often times the parents of mutant children would be killed as well and the rest of the family would be looked upon like traitors or demonic soldiers. The Song family may have been fine if it weren't for the fact that Hua actually did have powers. Hua discovered her powers at a young age, about ten or so, and from then on worked on hiding them. It was easy to slip up. She enjoyed her power, unfortunately, and as a young child would play with things in secret. At times, her power may even show up on its own without her assistance or trigger due to a spike in emotions. With so much negativity around her mutation, you would think Hua would have hated her power, but instead, she loved it more than anything. Her love for it made her reckless, and over the years, her recklessness was what found her out. It was a neighbor that saw her and said something. She was sixteen at the time, well known around, and hoped that her reputation would help her. Most didn't believe that Hua actually had a mutation, but the suspicion made people look at her more and in time, the gang of mutant killing protectors knew of her. The Song family had very little time to prepare--just a day's notice from a short report on the news--and due to the efforts of the community, could not leave their home like intended. The arrival of the gang meant life or death for Hua, and luckily, she picked life. Toda, Hua has no problem telling this story, but the fight between herself and the gang members was no peaceful manner. She didn't feel safe until she left her home--actually flying away during the battle--and knew nothing that came of it afterwards.

It's been two years and Hua still knows nothing of what happened to her parents or her home, but since then, had come to resent non-mutant people. She believed they lacked understanding and that they would need a new lesson to straighten up. She knew her quickest ticket was through Professor Xavier's academy and signed up without hesitation.

Mutation: Hua has the ability of psychokinesis. Psychokinesis is seen as an umbrella term and includes anything that involves the mind to manipulate something and other, specific abilities may be acquired as a result. Hua's power gives her a wide range of abilities. At its core, Hua can manipulate matter. She can move people or objects with a single thought,turn on machines, create force fields, or levitate with just as much effort. However, her power gives her the ability to specialize. Psychokinesis can evolve into a wide range of things, but it's how much focus she puts on each that determines the final result. By accelerating atoms, Hua could become a pyrokinetic, by slowing them down she can become a cyokinetic. With concentration she could learn to affect probability and with even more she could learn to teleport. By manipulating movement, Hua's abilities can range far and wide. Predictably, this sort of range means each specific ability takes practice--lots of it. Hua will never be able to wake up one day and manipulate the elements or make the Earth spin backwards. Practice is everything, and without the focus and determination it requires, Hua would never get there. Reasonably, some abilities will take longer than others to even learn to use competently and there are many others she may not discover.

Hua's biggest problem with her power is that it requires her mind. In other words, she needs to be able to think. If she can't think she can't work, simple as that. In theory, she could always build her focus, but there are limits to everything and Hua isn't actually known for her ability to stay calm and collected at all times. She could maybe use her power weakly and erratically, but a disruption of the mind is the surest way to handicap her. Anything that affects the mind will affect her powers, in fact. Drugs are an obvious. Fatigue is a great contributor, so is stress or agitation. Emotions affect Hua's powers greatly as well. To be at her best, Hua will have to be fit both in her mind and body.

Writing Sample: Getting into the Academy was extremely easy. A smile and a bow and nothing else. Hua was glad they didn't ask her anything. Not a question of where she came from of of her history. They didn't care and Hua liked it that way. But yes, it was fairly easy to get in. The woman who saw her when she entered didn't ask her if she was a mutant or what her power was. She was accepted quickly and readily and taken away to tour the school. It was almost as if they woman knew, but Hua didn't ask, she only followed.

The tour of the Academy mansion was to Hua's liking. The mansion was grand, a great place of beauty and also learning. She met a few other mutants along the way, some who told her about a class or activity, promoted by the tour guide, or simply chose to say hello. She saw many more just from looks and was surprised to see the many variations. Silly mutations, haunting mutations, harmless ones, and destructive ones. Everything was here. It delighted and amazed her on many levels. Hua would not be disappointed in this place, she was glad to know that. She almost wanted it for herself. When the tour ended and the guide showed her her room and her classes, Hua had her first moment to relax. She slid her bags--well, a single suitcase--under the bed and sat on it with a sigh. This would be her new home now, apparently. She would live here for what she hoped would not be too terribly long (in case she started to dislike this place) and would move on to bigger and better things after that.

Hua laid back on her bed and sighed, mind going back to her image of the bigger and better things. She would have everything. Money, subjects, possibly the world. It would be hers and she wouldn't even have to do it herself. She would have an army, a legion of men marching to continue her master race of mutants. Earth was their planet, after all. They just needed a few like Hua to assert it or just take it, at least. She saw no point in peace because the outcome would be the same. Non-mutants would only get nervous when they inevitably began to die out; afraid of their soon-to-come doom. There was no reason to have them breed out like dogs. If they were all done away with it would go much faster. The sooner mutants had the world, the better. She would make sure of that.

Hua smiled to herself and closed her eyes, immersing herself into her images of the future. Yes, it'd be a better place and it would be all hers.

E: SU finished! Sorry if you're not too impressed. I promise that I'm much better at RPing than I am at making an SU. X)

@ORegan You are of course welcome to contact me, but I wouldn't decide not to post an SU just because others have. Take a shot!

@Fuyu It seems like your character has some form of multiple personality disorder, though I'm possibly just mis-interpreting your use of her mutant name. You also used the word valkyrie a few times, with a capitol, was this just to create a certain image? Would it be possible for you to clarify on these points?

I continue to be impressed by the quality of SU's. Making my selections is going to be very difficult!

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